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

by Susan Lower

  “I’ve never been happier to see you,” I breathe.

  The bounty hunter keeps his gun aimed at Glen. “Get off her.”

  Slowly Glen gets off, staying to the far side of the bed. The bounty hunter steps further inside, halting at the mess on the floor. He curls his lip. “You okay?”

  I nod.

  Almost off the bed, Glen grabs for his gun. I lift my leg, throwing him off balance, and the bounty hunter’s gun goes off.

  I scream and cover my ears. I hear scuffling on the other side, and when I peek one eye open, the bounty hunter has Glen on the floor at the end of the bed. His hands cuffed behind his back.

  Footsteps rush up the stairs and down the hall. Robbie’s head ducks inside. “Someone get shot?”

  “Go get the sheriff.” The bounty hunter hauls Glen up to his feet.

  “I thought you wanted the preacher?” Robbie looks between me and then the bounty hunter and Glen.

  “Oh,” he says, and takes off again.

  A moment later, Reverend Carter stands in the doorway.

  The bounty hunter clears his throat and nods in my direction.

  I gasp, pulling the top blanket and flip it over my torn dress. “It’s not what it looks like,” I say.

  “Jo here caught herself a killer,” the bounty hunter shoves Glen ahead of him.

  My head feels funny. Pressing my hand against my chest to hold the blanket. Suddenly, I am freezing.

  “I haven’t killed anyone,” Glen says.

  “No?” The bounty hunter doesn’t sound amused. “That’s not what I heard you tell Miss Dean.”

  “That’s right,” I whisper, all the energy draining from me.

  “What is the meaning of all this?” Reverend Carter demands.

  I can’t keep my eyes open, and my mouth won’t form the words I want to say.

  “I think we can figure out what went on in here,” Reverend Carter huffs. “Doesn’t anyone listen to me?”

  I would tell him I am, but I can’t seem to focus. Robbie’s voice sounds distant, as does Sheriff Bentely’s. A warm hand presses against my neck. “I think he drugged her. Someone get the doctor.”

  21

  Something seems off. It takes a few blinks for my eyes to focus. I take a deep breath, stretch, my hands landing on a pillow. A patchwork blanket of blues and yellows is familiar. I know this blanket. I’m back in the bounty hunter’s room. This is my bed because he let me use it. I turn, reach under the mattress and my heart about stops. Shorty! Where is Shorty! Tossing blankets aside, up on my knees, I pull and tug. Where is it?

  “Morning.”

  I pause. A husky male voice makes the blood in my veins warm. I know that voice as much as I know this bed.

  Glancing over my shoulder, the bounty hunter drops his legs off the corner of the bed. One by one, then he sits up, leans his elbows on his thighs. “You looking for something?”

  Twisting around, I land back on my butt. The bounty hunter hoods his eyes, and I wonder if he’s fighting off sleep. Did he sleep here all night? I glance at the window, half open and letting a breeze in. I shiver, rubbing my arms. Somehow, I don’t think the bounty hunter is tired anymore.

  There is a breeze against the sisters. I clutch my shirt, but it’s not my shirt. It’s not the blue dress I had on either. Patting my chest, I gather the surrounding cloth. No wonder the bounty hunter is looking at me that way. First my derriere and now the sisters have both greeted him.

  “My clothes?” I’m not sure I want to ask who stripped me of my dress and put me in this nightgown. It’s Ruby’s. I’m certain this is the one she lent me several nights ago.

  He eases up out of the chair. “I had Ruby dispose of the dress.”

  “You what?”

  “It was ruined,” he says.

  “How did I get here?”

  “Don’t worry, Dimples, the doc and Ruby took care of you.”

  “Glen?” He killed my father. “He was going to…”

  The bounty hunter crosses his arms, standing at the end of the bed. “You’re safe with me.”

  The tone of his voice causes me to relax.

  I remember, he stopped Glen.

  “How did you know where I was?”

  “Robbie. He came looking for Reverend Carter. As soon as he said your name, I knew you were in trouble.”

  I wrap the quilt around me. “Thank you.”

  “What were you doing going off to the saloon on a Sunday?”

  My fingers grip the blanket a little tighter. “I got to thinking about those promissory notes. One was for Amaryllis. She lied, or I thought she did. I figured she’d done it.”

  “And you went to confront her without me.”

  I shrug. “If I caught the killer then you’d be relieved of our deal.”

  “You still owe me, Dimples.” He levels his stare with mine. Those stone-cold eyes have a darkening to them that can make a girl’s insides get gooey.

  “I aim to settle up.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. You got bigger problems to deal with today.”

  “And what’s that?” I gulp.

  “The stage came in last night.”

  “No! It’s early!” I’m up on my knees, both blankets clutched. “Was the judge on it?”

  The bounty hunter’s lips thin as he grimaces.

  “We got a day, right?”

  “Today’s Tuesday.”

  Wait. I’d lost another day. I’d slept clear to Tuesday? “I should have known better to take that drink.”

  The bounty lifts a brow.

  I wave my hand to dismiss him. “I’ve got to get dressed.”

  “Grace dropped off a new one for you a few hours ago.”

  I run my hand down over my face and try to shake the last of the sleep mites from my foggy brain. “Hours ago? What time is it?”

  “It’s near lunch. Ruby is in the kitchen preparing the noon meal.”

  There is a twitch in his lips.

  “What’s so funny?” I demand, getting out of bed while keeping the quilt wrapped around me.

  “You haven’t asked about Weston.”

  “I’d prefer not to think about him. I suppose I’ll see him soon enough.”

  He hooks his thumbs in his belt.

  “Well, aren’t you going to go so I can get dressed?”

  He tilts his head. “The box is on the dresser; you can step behind the screen to change.”

  Squinting, I keep my eye on him. Inching closer to the dresser, I pull the lid off the box. Inside is a gown as green as the mountain meadow.

  “I appreciate her trading my dress, but I’d prefer my own clothes.” I have had enough dress disasters to last me a lifetime.

  “It’s Judge Stevens,” the bounty hunter says softly. “You’ll want to wear a dress in his courtroom if you want him to listen to you.”

  I bite my lip, staring down at the dress.

  “Go on, Dimples. It won’t bite.”

  I pull the dress from the box. It’s simple, with a floral print and buttons down the front. Beneath it are new undergarments, and… “What in the world?”

  I pick it up, trying to make heads or tails of the contraption.

  “I think this must have been put in here by mistake.”

  The bounty hunter covers his mouth for a moment, ducking slightly, and I dare him to laugh. I toss it to him.

  His eyes go dark again. Those hooded lashes are dangerous to a woman’s good sense.

  “This here, Dimples, is a corset.”

  “It’s a what, now?” I don’t think he said what I think he said.

  “It’s a corset. Surely, you’ve worn one before. I’ve seen you in a dress.”

  I shake my head. When I should be nodding.

  “It’s an undergarment.”

  My hand slaps over my face. It’s burning, no blazing red. “Put that down.” I hiss. “You can’t be touching that.”

  All I can see is his enormous hands covering where I’m guessing th
e sisters are supposed to be.

  The bounty hunter laughs. He laughs! It’s the best booming noise I’ve heard since he rescued me from Glen.

  My heart thumps, thumping so much I don’t know what’s got me spooked more, the contraption, or the man holding it.

  “I’ll step out while you put it on.”

  “Then what?” I eye him wearily.

  “You put your dress on.”

  “I haven’t ever needed one of those before.” I point at it. By the way he looks at me, I digress. I grab the thing out of his hands and huff. “Then what?”

  “We go see the judge and settle our business.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  After he steps out, I go about my business. I shed the nightgown and pull on the undergarments. Then it comes to the corset. The thing has more laces and ties than I have ever seen.

  A knock comes at the door. “You doing okay there, Dimples?”

  “I don’t know how this thing works,” I say through the door.

  “Need some help?”

  I look down at myself. Standing there in nothing more than my chemise and drawers. It counts as being covered, right? Ruby would know how this thing goes on.

  Never needing to ask for help much, I sigh. “Yes. I need help, else I won’t be leaving this room.”

  My stomach grumbles in protest. I suppose I’m lucky I threw up after drinking that nasty fake whiskey of Glen’s. I might not have woken up, and then what would happen to Tail Feathers and his people? Chitto flitters through my mind. Who am I to think I can protect them when I couldn’t even protect myself?

  I wonder if Ruby found Shorty.

  I don’t have time to think about it more. The bounty hunter steps inside my room. My hands across the sisters. “What are you doing?”

  “You said you needed help.”

  “From Ruby!”

  “Turn around, Dimples. No sense in taking Ruby from her kitchen.”

  This is a bad idea. A very bad idea. Those hooded eyes of his and the lift at the side of his lips send my nerves into a flurry.

  “You know how?”

  “Let’s just say I know how to tie things up.”

  Hurriedly, I spin around before he sees the heat flare up my cheeks. I can’t seem to control it around this man. My mind screams, this isn’t proper. Nothing about this day is starting off right.

  Body heat wafts off the man, making me flush even more. He takes the ties and I feel the small tugs as he laces me up. Silly me, he had a wife once upon a time. He probably knows how to dress a woman and undress one. The latter part is what causes me the most distress. I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. After Reverend Carter’s sermon and Glen trying to get his way, I should know better.

  The bounty hunter jerks on my laces, sending me almost back into him. He does it again and grunts for me to stand my ground. “You try to stand in place while someone is jerking on your laces.”

  “Grab hold of the bedpost.”

  I do as he says. “You make it any tighter and I won’t be able to breathe.” I whine. Sure enough, the corset tightens around my ribs.

  “That’s the point.” He yanks again, and I thrust forward toward the post, wrapping my arms around it. The bounty hunter flies forward with me, his chest colliding with my back. Sparks zing up my spine and I moan as he ‘oofs’ at impact.

  “Oh my.” A crash sounds as I turn my head. Ruby stands in the doorway, a tray on the floor. A teacup spins, broken. Food splatters between the doorway and the hem of her dress.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” I blurt, trying to push the bounty hunter away.

  “Oh, it’s what it looks like,” the bounty hunter finishes tying my laces. “There, now go put your dress on so we can go see the judge.”

  “You’re going to see the judge?” Ruby pats her chest. “Well, then. I suppose it should relieve me.”

  The bounty hunter walks over, talks to her in a low tone as he crouches to help her pick up the mess.

  “Dress?” He doesn’t look back, and I snatch up the dress and hurry to pull it over my head. The corset biting into my sides.

  I smooth it out, finish up the buttons in the front. The sisters sit comfortably in place. Ruby places her hand on the bounty hunter. “Grace has an eye, doesn’t she? Jo, that dress was made for you.”

  Deep down, I have a feeling it really was.

  “I’ll clean this up and you two come down to the kitchen. I’ve got left over stew and fresh bread for lunch. I suppose you’ll come back here after seeing the judge?” She looks at us both with an odd glint in her eye.

  “One more night won’t hurt.”

  The bounty hunter walks around me, reaches behind, and tugs on the back of my dress. “Sure.”

  My hands go back to cover my bottom. The bounty hunter raises his brow, and he’s not wearing his long leather jacket. He’s got a fresh shirt on, the color of the mountain sky. His hair hangs over his shoulders, and he holds his hand out for me.

  He must have felt bad after I got drugged. Or maybe it’s because he pulled these laces so tight I can hardly breathe.

  “Wonderful,” Ruby declares. “I’ll bake a cake. Unless you want me to come down to the courthouse with you.”

  “That’s kind of you,” I say and stop. I hear a door close not far away. I’d forgot about the gambler. Almost.

  Ruby scowls, glancing down the hall. She takes up the tray and heads for the stairs. The bounty hunter and me are not far behind her.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the gambler steps out of the parlor. His arms wide and his grin even wider. “Jolene. Darlin’! You’re up and about! Thank goodness.”

  “Is that a new suit?” I shouldn’t have asked. He tugs on those lapels and opens his jacket to reveal a red brocade vest with gold threads. He is wearing a black tie around his neck and his hair is combed neatly in place. More impressive are those emerald eyes that make a girl feel like she’s the prize. He sets them on me. “Don’t worry about the dress. We can have an entire wardrobe made in the latest fashion. Right now, am I ever glad you’re okay. With all this nonsense of your father’s killer out of the way, the judge awaits us.”

  The gambler offers his arm and says to the bounty hunter, “I’m grateful for you seeing her safely returned to me.”

  I do a double take. Maybe he hit his head on that floor a little too hard.

  Ruby clucks and says, “I think I’ll come after all.”

  The bounty hunter transfers my hand to the gambler’s arm. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Somehow, it doesn’t make me feel any better.

  I might have caught the killer, but it’s time to face the law.

  22

  The Deadwood Courthouse is in the schoolhouse. Yep, it’s the same building where children learn, and we all go on Sundays to hear about God. While the children spend the day outside and take a field trip to Johnson’s café, court is in session. Doesn’t seem the right place to pass down judgement on criminals, but law in Deadwood is a relatively new concept.

  Judge Orvis Stevens is a bald man with a mustache and jowls like a hound dog. He sits at the teacher’s desk off to the left of the pulpit. We all sit and wait our turn in the pews. The bounty hunter on one side of me, the gambler on the other. Ruby sits in the pew behind me. The railroad men have come to witness the outcome. Mr. Davenport and Mr. Conway give a nod our way.

  There is a woman in black, wearing a veil to cover her face. My heart goes out to her. It’s bad enough to become a widow, then to have to stand before the judge.

  “Jo Dean,” the judge calls.

  I don’t like the way he says my name. All three of us stand. The gambler gets out of the way as I walk past him. The bounty hunter isn’t far behind me.

  “Here.” I say, determined not to let my knees knock.

  “Interesting.” Judge Stevens runs a thumb down the side of his moustache as he absorbs the fact I’m a woman. By the way he looks at me, I’d say he’s not impressed. The bounty
hunter may have been wrong to put me in this dress.

  “You Pierce Weston?” Judge Stevens asks.

  “That would be me, Your Honor.” The gambler raises his hand and comes to stand on one side of me. A dark gash swipes underneath his one eye. It’s an ugly dark mark put there by my fist. He sports it without so much as a wince in my direction. “I appreciate you coming all this way to finally put all this nonsense to an end.”

  “Don’t thank me yet.” Judge Steven glances around, his neck never moving. “Chord Townes?”

  “Judge Stevens.” The bounty hunter steps on the other side of me.

  “Never thought I’d see you in my courtroom again.”

  “Same.”

  There is no time to dwell on the fact the judge and the bounty hunter know each other. It’s part of the past, the one I agreed not to question.

  “Wait a minute,” the gambler says. “What’s he have to do with this?”

  Judge Stevens holds up his hand. His black robe sleeve slides down his arm. “I’ll ask the questions here.”

  The gambler crosses his arms.

  I hold my hands in front of me, twisting and interlocking my fingers.

  “Let me get this straight,” Judge Steven says. He’s got a stack of papers in front of him. I recognize them from the claims office.

  Behind us, the door shuts, and we look back. Amaryllis and Buck slip into the last pew. She’s got a lot of nerve showing up here, and with Buck. What’s he doing here?

  Over my dead body will anyone get their hands on my claim. I ball my hands into fist, curling them into my skirt.

  The bounty hunter looks over at me, gives his head a shake, but I can’t relax. The more the judge shuffles through the papers, the more tense I feel.

  “Miss Dean, you and your father own a claim on the mountain.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your father is deceased.”

  “Yes.”

  “Seems a lot of people have a claim on your father’s share of the land.”

  “Now, your honor, if I could add, not only is the land claim due to me, but Miss Dean’s hand in marriage is mine as well. You can take care of that while we’re here, can’t you? With her status, surely, you can see, that would entitle me to act on both of our behalf.”