The Cowgirl Gets The Bad Guy (Cowgirl Mysteries Book 1)

by Susan Lower

  “I don’t think so. Earl did the same when there was mention of my mother.” Sometimes he disappears for days. The first time, he left me for two days, and I found Chitto. He taught me to snare a rabbit and after a while, showed me where his family lived hidden beyond Standing Rock in the mountain on our land.

  “You’d best be careful around a man like Mr. Townes. He’s an outlaw killer. He’s nice enough when he comes for dinner, but my father says that it will take a lot of prayer to see the redemption for a man like him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lincoln says killing a man takes a piece of your soul. He figures Chord Townes doesn’t have any soul left, which is why he can go around hunting criminals and bringing them back, dead or alive.”

  “But isn’t killing a killer justice? They hang them after they have a trial.” I touch my throat and wince.

  “It’s not our place to judge.” Ella Mae puts a few more stitches in my dress and ties off the thread into a knot.

  “Maybe this is his way of protecting innocent folks.”

  “Or maybe he’s trying to ease his own guilt.”

  And I think of what Ruby said about the bounty hunter having a wife, had a wife.

  No matter, I can’t go getting all cow eyed and lovesick over a man like Ella Mae. She really loves Lincoln. Around here, people don’t get so lucky for a love match. Why else would men have to put ads in the paper to find a bride? Perhaps I should put one in the paper for the gambler, then he’d leave me alone.

  A feeling of unease seeps into my bones. I might have genuinely liked the gambler if not for his devious ways. And the bounty hunter… it’s obvious he doesn’t look at me as anything more than an extra ten percent income from my claim.

  Men. Who needs them?

  Ella Mae sure thinks she does. A part of me wouldn’t have survived without Chitto. It seems one way or another they make you rely on them.

  When Ella Mae’s sisters are home after school, I take the blue dress and head back to Ruby’s. Pearl invites me to stay for dinner, but I figure the bounty hunter might come checking on me. I hope he does because I want the chance to apologize. Ever since I ran into him on the horrid day of my father’s murder, we’ve seemed to be nothing more than a pain in each other’s side.

  No, not a pain. I remember his hands on my face and the way he tended to my hand. Something is building inside me for him, and I’d best get it stopped now.

  I said I wouldn’t get in any more trouble. I’m pretty sure telling the bounty hunter I’ve got feelings for him would cause more than either of us could handle.

  Back at the boarding house, Ruby catches me before I can go up the stairs. “There’s a Daphne Davenport here to see you. She’s sitting in the parlor.”

  I duck around Ruby enough to peer inside, jerking back before Daphne can spot me. She’s sitting in a wing-back chair by the window. Her face lifts to the sun with her hands on her lap. She’s wearing a bronze dress with a feathered hat.

  “She’s been here for over an hour. Insisted she stay until she spoke with you.”

  I press my lips to the side. The blue dress is in my arms, and I stare down at my boot clad feet.

  “I think I know why she’s here. I need to take this upstairs to my room, and I’ll be back down. Thank you for letting me know.”

  “Don’t you go changing on her account.” Ruby plants her hands on her hips. “Her fancy dress doesn’t make her any more a lady than you. Pretty soon she and her father will ride the train right back to where they came from.”

  I smile, grateful for Ruby’s support. I take a few steps on the stairs when Ruby halts me again.

  “And that isn’t all,” Ruby lowers her voice, wiping her hands in her apron. “I took on another boarder today. I told him he’d have to stay on the other end of the hall.”

  The way she says it makes my stomach flutter. Maybe the bounty hunter changed his mind and is staying at the boarding house.

  Ruby’s gaze flitters up the stairs. It’s not the bounty hunter. My stomach sinks. “Who is it?”

  She looks at me with a slight frown on her face. “Mr. Weston.”

  I almost miss the rest of her words for the loud pounding of my heart in my ears. “He is going to stay with us for the next few days.”

  Weston? Pierce Weston. The gambler. I glance over at the parlor. So, that’s why Daphne Davenport is here. She’s come to see him.

  But why does she want to see me? Unless he put her up to it.

  “No sense in glowering,” Ruby says. “I got tea brewing in the kitchen and dumplings in the making.”

  “But why?” I follow her into the kitchen, careful so Daphne doesn’t spot me on my way.

  “That’s what I do. I run a boarding house and rent people a room to stay. I gave you a room.” She picks up a wooden spoon and points it in my direction. Ruby’s hair is twisted in a knot in the back. Her face is flushed from the oven.

  “Did he pay you?”

  She pulls back her shoulders. “It isn’t any of your business, but yes. He did. In cash.”

  For Ruby’s sake, I hope it isn’t counterfeit.

  I contemplate this recent change in events as I go to my room. I lay the dress over a chair and take a deep breath. For a moment, I close my eyes and envision I’m back in the mountains and it’s the scent of pine and earth surrounding me.

  Soon. I promise myself, feeling my freedom and my hope slowly slipping from my grasp.

  I head back downstairs to the parlor, deciding to get this over with fast. I try to ignore the fact the gambler is staying under the same roof.

  Daphne stands as I enter. She smiles, her painted red lips set off from the rest of her powdered face.

  “Jolene. I hoped you would return soon. It’s almost time for afternoon tea.”

  “It’s Jo, as in Jo Dean,” I say. “What do I owe this visit?”

  “Well, Jodie, I wanted to invite you over to the hotel. We can have a late lunch and perhaps we can talk.” The way she says my name sounds like Jo-Dee. As I go to correct her, I hear a wagon going down the street and the clip clop of hooves against the earth.

  She asks again, “Lunch?”

  “I’ve had lunch with Ella Mae. Thank you. Ruby’s got tea here if you’d like.”

  “Oh, I’d hoped we’d do this at the hotel.” Her painted lips turn down. She clasps her hands together. “Since I don’t see the need for pleasantries, I suppose I should come right out and say it, shall I?”

  “Let me guess. Since I’m a woman, your father sent you here to lure me into trying to get my land.”

  Daphne plops back down in the green cushioned chair behind her and laughs. It’s a nervous laugh or one of relief. “Oh, no.” She waves her hand at me to sit opposite of her. “My father wouldn’t hear of doing business with a woman or sending one to do it for him.”

  I frown, scooting over to the chair across from her. It’s the one with the patchwork arm rest. I’m not even offended by her father not doing business with a woman. It’s the times, and like the expansion of the west, I figure one day things will turn and it’ll be the woman running things. Probably not in my lifetime, so I lean forward with my elbows on my thighs. Not at all lady-like and careful of my bad hand.

  “Then why are you here?”

  She straightens her spine, tipping up her narrow chin. “Because of Weston, of course.”

  “Weston? I think you should go.” I grab the chair arm with my good hand and go to get up.

  Daphne puts out her hand to stop me. “You don’ t even know what I’m going to say.”

  I stay seated, my fingers digging into the worn fabric of the chair. “He sent you to try to convince me to marry him. Well, you can tell him I’m not afraid of his threats.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  She nods. “I hoped to come here to offer my assistance.”

  “You didn’t come to talk me into getting married?”

  She shakes her head, leaning
in closer. “On the contrary, I came to offer to help you escape back to that mountain of yours. Although, I don’t know why you’d want to go there and stay alone. Unless you’re hiding something, you don’t want anyone to know about.”

  “Hiding something?” My blood freezes.

  “Daddy says most folks bury their gold and money as they don’t trust the banking system. I read a story back home about an outlaw who hid what he stole and won’t tell a soul where it is.”

  “One can never be too safe,” I mutter.

  “I’m sure whatever you have hidden up there, my father would allow you to still access. He just wants the right of way through the mountain. He might even let you still pan for gold if you play your cards right.” She wiggles her brows.

  “Your father likes to play cards?” I ask.

  “He, Mr. Conway, Mr. Warner, and Mr. Weston have had a game going on each evening after supper. I believe Mr. Weston made out well last evening. Daddy wasn’t happy to part with half his purse.”

  Would the gambler pay up his debts, I wondered? Clearly, he hadn’t won as much as Daphne let on since he moved in at the boarding house.

  “Now listen up, Jodie, I have a plan,” Daphne whispers. “They’ll be taking another wagon of supplies to the rail workers in the morning. We could hide you in the wagon. If anyone finds you, they’ll think you’re a man dressed as you are.”

  Obviously, she must be blind not to notice the sisters are the size of twin mountains jutting from my chest. I let her go on.

  “Anyway, once you reach the camp, you can slip off to your claim, grab your stash you’re hiding, and Mr. Weston will have no choice but to move on.”

  I tilt my head, letting it sink in, as an understanding comes over me. “Mr. Weston still has claim to half my land.”

  She leans back, shrugs. “Daddy only needs the part where the mountain is.”

  “Is that right?” The entire lot is on the mountainside.

  “You’d still have your part.” I hold off on asking who would decide which part was mine and which belonged to Weston. Or would that be the railroad after he sold it? And then where did that leave Tail Feathers and his people?

  “I thought you didn’t come here on your father’s behalf about business.”

  “I see I’m going to be blunt about this. Mr. Weston is mine. I understand the circumstances in which the two of you got engaged. Clearly, the feelings are one sided, and you don’t deserve him.”

  I gulp like a fish out of water. “One sided?” I try not to choke.

  She squirms in her chair. “That’s right. Mr. Weston has feelings for you. It’s not right to lead a man on. He even got in a fight over your honor and ended up with that nasty bruise on his face.”

  I covered my busted hand with my good one. Fight over my honor, indeed.

  “If you have any consideration of anyone else’s feelings, you’ll get in that wagon tomorrow morning and stay clear of here. I’m sure once you’re gone Pierce will get over you and he’ll see what a fine woman I am, and we’ll head on that riverboat he’s always talking about.”

  I nod, slowly. Noticing how she slipped and used his first name. “Sure.” I hear myself agreeing with her. “But there’s one problem with your plan.” Several if I pick it apart.

  “The sheriff said I can’t leave town until the judge comes and my father’s killer has been found to clear this mess all up.”

  “Daddy is friends with a lot of important people. Don’t you worry about the judge.”

  The judge is the least of my problems. “And the wagon? Where will it be?”

  “Behind the saloon. I heard Daddy say they were trading some crates of wine for some harder stuff.”

  “Shouldn’t it have gone to the hotel?”

  “Mr. Warner was shy on funds. So, you’ll be gone? Tomorrow?”

  A throat cleared from behind me, and Ruby stands with flour on her cheek. “Look out the window.”

  There, coming toward the boarding house, I spot the pinstripe suit. I get up and Daphne did the same.

  I follow Ruby back to the kitchen.

  “Where are you going? Mr. Weston is coming.”

  “Exactly,” I say, not bothering to stop in the kitchen and going out the back.

  “Don’t be gone too long. Supper is at six,” Ruby calls. For a second, I feel the warmth spread in my chest. My birth mother never gave me a second mind as much as Ruby does.

  I haven’t gotten across the backyard where the chickens are penned up when I hear Daphne making a noise. She’s got her skirts pulled up and trying to tiptoe across the mud and straw.

  I hold open the wooden gate and wait for her to cross.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “It’s rude to walk out on a person when we haven’t finished our conversation. You are going to leave him, aren’t you? He deserves a woman of refined quality.”

  “You should have stayed in the parlor for when he arrived. I’m sure it will devastate him to discover I’m not there.”

  “You’re right.” Daphne presses her hand to her chest, letting go of her skirt, to only yank it back up again.

  She stumbles after me as I take the back path behind the buildings.

  “Must we go this way? It’s smelly and muddy and I’m going to get my skirt stained.”

  “There is a way between the buildings here, be my guest.” I sweep my hand out to indicate the path.

  She wrinkles her nose. “You go first.”

  I huff, stomping my boots on the ground. I must have gone farther than I realize, because as we come out between the buildings and step up onto the walk, I freeze.

  Daphne holds her hand out. “Excuse me?”

  I don’t pay her any mind. She holds the side of the building. It’s one step up on the plank walk. “Rude.”

  Not as rude as the scene before me. Standing outside the hotel are Mr. Davenport, Mr. Conway, and the bounty hunter. I know that leather duster anywhere.

  I lengthen my stride, eating up the distance between us. Mr. Davenport and Mr. Conway both hold out their hands. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” Mr. Conway says.

  The bounty hunter grips his hand first, then Davenport’s.

  Conway turns and goes back into the hotel. Davenport glances over at us. “Daphne, love, what are you doing? I thought you’d gone back upstairs to rest.”

  “That was hours ago, Daddy,” she shoves past me. “I needed some fresh air.”

  “A woman shouldn’t go about alone, especially in a place like this.” Davenport holds out his arm for her.

  “Jodie was with me.” She says it again, pulling out the ‘dee’ and gives me a smug smile.

  The bounty hunter rises a brow toward me. I shake my head.

  “Your father is right. You shouldn’t be out alone. There are some shady characters here in Deadwood.” The bounty hunter locks those stone-cold eyes on me.

  “You remember what we discussed.” Daphne slips her hand around her father’s arm.

  I turn on my heel deciding to go see Ella Mae again. Pearl’s offer for supper is the escape I need. Before I can go far, the bounty hunter catches me by the arm. “Hold up there, Dimples.”

  I sigh, letting him come to stand in front of me. He keeps his hand on my arm, the one attached to my bad hand. His face is unreadable. Never a smile on his face and a tick in his jaw. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I yank my arm from his hold. Cross my arms and wait as a gentleman tips his hat as he passes. The bounty hunter doesn’t even move out of his way. The dusty cowboy looks like he came straight off the trail. There are several horses tied at the hitching post.

  “Well?”

  “I’m doing what you told me to do.” I huff. “Or were you in such a hurry to get away from me, you forgot?”

  The man is like a rock. No wonder his eyes are a cold shade of grey. His shoulders fall enough to take notice. He hooks his thumbs in his belt and I keep my eyes above his belt line. Anything els
e he’s packing beneath is none of my business.

  “Maybe we should talk off the street. Let me walk you back to the boarding house. Jo-Dee.” He says it like Daphne.

  “I can’t help she doesn’t know the difference between Jo Dean and Jodie.”

  “If you say so, Dimples.”

  He says it to send a thorn under my skin, but the way he says it is downright lethal. I don’t seem to mind as much anymore.

  “Fine, but just so you know, Weston has taken a room there.”

  The man would be unbeatable in poker. His face doesn’t even twitch. He looks out over my shoulder a moment. A group of four men on horses come riding down the street from behind me. I haven’t ever seen them before, but then again, I don’t know most of the people who live in Deadwood. I guess that’s what I get for living like a hermit with Earl in the mountains.

  Two of the men have Calvary jackets on, but they’re so muddy and torn I don’t think they are in the Calvary anymore. I don’t pay them any more attention.

  The bounty hunter sure does. He keeps his gaze fixed on them as they ride by. He watches as they go further down and disappear.

  I know better than to ask. He won’t share with me none anyhow.

  There is one thing for certain, Deadwood is about to get lively tonight. Question is, will it get rowdy enough to flush out my father’s killer?

  18

  With the addition of the new railroad station master, Ruby, the bounty hunter, and I enjoy a quiet supper of chicken and dumplings. It comes as no surprise for the gambler to not show up.

  Ruby made an egg custard. She pours coffee and we’re entertained by Mr. Miles Clark. He’s a good-looking fellow, been working for the railroad since he was sixteen. He’s over twenty, keeps his hair combed to the left, and has the good sense to sit on the opposite side of the dining room table away from the bounty hunter, and beside Ruby.

  “Has there been any more progress on tracking down Earl Dean’s killer?” Ruby directs her question to the bounty hunter. She knows he and I are in cahoots. Why else would he stick around? For business, and nothing else, of course.

  “There’s a killer loose in Deadwood?” It’s hard to refer to a man as mister when he’s still wet behind the ears and fresh from the other side of the country. He’s got one of those accents when he talks from across the ocean. Perhaps having him around will bring us a bit of luck. Besides, his voice is like a song you never want to stop hearing. You can’t help relaxing while he talks. It’s like a steady summer rain that both cools you and makes you feel refreshed.