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

by Susan Lower

  “Status?” I burst out.

  He glances down at my fist and steps a little further away. My hand aches a little as I try to keep from clenching it. The bounty hunter leans in and whispers, “Calm down, Dimples. Let Judge Stevens handle this.”

  Easy for him to say. It’s not his land, honor, or life on the line here.

  “Your Honor?” Ruby stands, waving her hand.

  Judge Stevens leans to look around us. His eyes shine with a bit of interest. Well, wouldn’t you know?

  “And you are?”

  “Ruby Hazelton. I own the boarding house here in town.”

  “You have something to say that pertains to this case? Fact. Not hearsay,” Judge Steven says.

  “Fact.” Ruby lifts her chin. “Jolene can’t marry Mr. Weston. This morning I found her and Chord, I mean Mr. Townes in a… a…” Ruby fans her face as she says, “compromising situation.”

  Judge Steven peers over at the bounty hunter. “Is that right?”

  My jaw falls to the floor. I’m busy trying to pick it up when the gambler gives the bounty hunter a deadly look.

  “He was in her room while she was ill. We all were checking on her or trying to.” The gambler turns his glare toward Ruby. “Nothing compromising about that.”

  “Jo slept in Mr. Townes’ bed, and he stayed the night. I know what I saw this morning when I brought them breakfast.” Ruby grips the pew in front of her.

  “She’s lying, your honor. My room is right down the hall from the one where she is staying. I never saw Mr. Townes go inside.”

  “You came through the window,” I say.

  The bounty hunter doesn’t flinch. His voice never wavers, and he looks straight at the judge when he says, “That’s right.”

  “Did you or did you not spend the night in Miss Dean’s room?” Judge Stevens’ eyebrows raise.

  Ruby raises her hand.

  Judge Stevens nods at Ruby.

  “Technically, Your Honor, the room is Chord’s. I mean Mr. Townes. Miss Dean has been sleeping in his bed for several nights now.”

  The gambler tenses. He growls over at the bounty hunter. Any moment I suspect he’ll pull something deadly from his sleeve.

  I reach over and smack the bounty hunter in the arm. “What are you doing?”

  All I want to do is sink into the floorboards and disappear. Everyone in the room stares at me.

  Those stone-cold grey eyes meet mine. “Trust me, Dimples. You’ll thank me later.”

  “I object!” the gambler declares.

  “You would!” Ruby puts her hands on her hips.

  “Now Ma’am, I’ll be the one to handle this, don’t you worry.” Judge Stevens winks at Ruby. I try to close my eyes and wash the sight from my mind.

  “It’s all lies, your honor. The two of them are in on this scam together. Don’t you see? He’s trying to take the land for himself,” the gambler says. “It’s all part of their plan.”

  “And what plan is that?” I ask.

  “The plan to take all the money for yourselves,” the gambler says.

  “Money?” Judge Stevens tilts his head. “Ah, yes. The railroad. Well, this matter isn’t over money, so your accusations have no merit in my court, Mr. Weston. Now, as far as the matter of marriage, Mr. Townes, you’re prepared to take Miss Dean as your wife?”

  My blood goes cold. I stare at the bounty hunter, my vision blurring.

  “I am.” He looks straight at the judge.

  “With all witnesses present,” he motions to Ruby, then to us. “I hereby declare you, Mr. And Mrs. Townes.” Judge Stevens smacks his gavel.

  Like that?

  “Now wait a minute!” the gambler objects.

  “What?” I look at Ruby as she picks up her bonnet grinning from ear to ear. I can hardly breathe. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Ella Mae always talks about church weddings and the part where your man kisses you to seal the deal.

  The bounty hunter isn’t puckering, he’s grimacing. I’m certain he flinched when the gavel came down.

  Can a judge do that?

  I suppose they can. They are the ones who decide on the law here in the territory. What ever happened to asking a girl first?

  The gambler shouts in a fury and the judge smacks his gavel again. “Enough,” Judge Stevens roars.

  “You might have got the girl, Townes, but the land is still mine!” the gambler says.

  My lungs hurt with the effort to breathe. This cursed contraption around my ribs is going to be the death of me. Someone should have told Glen corsets, not drugs, were the way to take a woman down.

  Hot, angry tears sting my eyes and run down my cheeks.

  “Jo?” the bounty hunter says.

  I pinch my nose and close my eyes tight to shut off the waterworks.

  “On the matter of the land,” I hear Judge Steven say, “since the deed is half in Miss Dean, excuse me,” he says, “Mrs. Townes’ name and her late father, Earl Dean. Mrs. Townes maintains her half of the land, under the supervision of her husband as by law.”

  My eyes pop open.

  “And the other half?” the gambler demands.

  I put up my finger, when from behind us a woman shouts, “Your Honor? Oh, Your Honor!”

  We all turn. The woman in black comes forward, tripping over her skirts, and trying to pull up her veil. “If anyone is getting that half, it’s me!”

  She huffs, flinging back the long netting of her black veil. She swishes it aside like a horse's tail trying to ward off a fly.

  Judge Stevens puts down his gavel. “Who are you?”

  She pulls out her handkerchief from her sleeve. Dabbing her eyes as she sniffles. “Polly Dean, Your Honor. Earl Dean was my husband.”

  The bounty hunter’s hands come up to grip my arms. “Steady.”

  I feel lightheaded. “Mother.”

  “That’s right, Honey Buns, Momma’s come back. That nasty man is gone and now we can have everything we’ve ever deserved.”

  She’s serious. The woman has eyes full of horse manure and lips as red as a viper. Crow’s feet jut from the corner of those eyes, neither damp nor sorrow filled.

  She opens her arms, trying to pull me in, and I step back into the chest of the bounty hunter. He wraps his arm around my waist and Polly takes the hint. She covers her mouth and nose with the handkerchief, sniffling. I’m sure it is a fake sob. “I’ve imagined this day for years.”

  “Yeah, I bet you have,” I mutter.

  I feel the bounty hunter’s chest rumble against me.

  “Mrs. Dean,” Judge Stevens says.

  The gambler shakes with a violent tremble. He paces in front of the pulpit and back again. “Surely, your honor, the promissory notes are legal?”

  “They’re legal,” Judge Stevens says.

  I suck in my breath.

  “Anyone else want to put in a claim while we are at it?” Judge Steven spreads his arms, looking at everyone in the pews.

  “I do!” Amaryllis’s voice rings out. She stands up when Buck grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her back down. “He promised me!”

  Then Buck says something into her ear, and she sits her butt back down, crossing her arms.

  “None here, isn’t that right, Amaryllis?” Buck says.

  She scowls and says, “Fine. No claim here.”

  Polly’s shoulders sag, and she appears relieved. I think I’m going to be sick again. It’s probably best I skipped eating before we came to see the judge.

  “In that case, I grant Mr. Weston half ownership of the claim formally known as the Dean property.”

  The gambler grabs those lapels and nods. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  Polly screams “No! I’m his widow, it’s my inheritance!”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Judge Stevens holds his gavel mid-pause. “Having had an extra day to review this case and seeing how a new situation has come up.” He points at the bounty hunter and me. “I first assumed this was a closed case of marrying the da
ughter to the new landowner for a full claim of the land. Seeing how you are now half owner, Mr. Weston, and Mr. and Mrs. Townes are half owners, it seems only fair to declare half the value of the land be paid…”

  Polly bounces up and down. “Me!”

  Judge Stevens growls and she goes quiet.

  “Mr. Weston, you will hold ownership of fifty percent of the land, unless, of course, Mr. And Mrs. Townes come up with the market value of the land in which they have one month from today to pay. I will hold any funds earned from the land in escrow until the month is over and we settle the land ownership.”

  “When you say, one month, is that thirty days or thirty-one?” the gambler asks.

  “Thirty-one.”

  “What about me?” Polly struts right up to the judge. “What do I get?”

  Judge Stevens lands his gavel. “My condolences on your loss, Mrs. Dean.”

  Polly says a few choice words and struts right back the way she came. She pushes between us and glares at all three of us. “This isn’t over yet.”

  “Your honor let’s be reasonable,” the gambler protests.

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Wait a minute. You can’t do that!” the gambler exclaims.

  “Thirty-three,” Judge Stevens says.

  “What am I to do with only half?”

  “Nothing,” I chime in. “You won’t have it for long.”

  “Dimples,” the bounty hunter says.

  “Next case.” Judge Stevens tries to shoo us away.

  Mr. Davenport and Mr. Conway stand. The gambler shoots daggers at the bounty hunter with his eyes. “This isn’t over, Townes.” His expression softens. He turns those emerald eyes on me. “Jolene.”

  He heads toward Mr. Conway and Mr. Davenport. An exchange of glances goes between the bounty hunter and the railroad men. I never found out what they were talking about. I guess there is a lot I’m going to have to learn, secrets included.

  “You’re pale, let’s get you back to Ruby’s and get some food in you.”

  Ruby offered to bake a cake.

  “Did we just get married?” My head is still spinning.

  The bounty hunter takes me by the chin. I blink to clear my vision. Looking into his eyes, searching for a sign, any kind of emotion, I fall short. His lips flutter up. I hold my breath. My eyelids flutter.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it in name only Dimples.”

  “Anyone else got something they need to settle? I don’t have all day!” Judge Steven declares.

  The side door bursts open, and in comes Lincoln with his hands raised high over his head. Behind him, Ella Mae points a sawed-off shotgun in the middle of his back.

  The bounty hunter and I spring apart.

  “Ella Mae!” I exclaim.

  “She’s crazy,” Lincoln says. “You need to get the sheriff.”

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Judge Stevens stands.

  “This man took advantage of me, judge. I demand you marry us.”

  Ella Mae’s hair is all askew. It’s like a wild goose made a nest on her head. Lincoln’s shirt isn’t tucked the entire way.

  “Son? This true?” Judge Stevens asks.

  “She kissed me first,” Lincoln shrugs. “What was I supposed to do?”

  I roll my eyes and stop. I know that sawed-off shotgun.

  “Shorty!” I stalk up to Ella Mae and grab my shotgun from her. Ella Mae tries to hold on to it. “I need it. I’ll give it back when I’m done and married.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ask him!” she exclaims.

  “What have you done?” I lower my voice.

  “He’s been visiting the Swanson sisters. I did what any sensible woman would do in my situation. Don’t you dare let him get away!”

  I snatch Shorty.

  Lincoln lowers his hands and goes to take off, when the bounty hunter grabs him by the shoulder, and I turn Shorty in Lincoln’s direction. His hands flying back up.

  “Now ladies,” he says. “This is a big misunderstanding. Ella Mae, you don’t want to get married this way. We should do it in a church.”

  “We are in the church,” Ella Mae juts out a hip and puts her hand on it.

  “She’s got you there,” the bounty hunter says.

  “Man up, son,” Judge Steven says.

  Ella Mae grabs him by the arm, yanks him in front of the judge.

  “Jo, you’re my witness,” Ella Mae says, trying to fix her hair with one hand.

  As I stand there, watching Ella Mae and Lincoln tie the knot in front of the judge, I can’t help feeling I’m the one who got cheated. I thought finding my father’s killer would bring resolution and freedom.

  Ella Mae pulls Lincoln in for a kiss, keeping a hold around his neck much longer than any man can go without air. If their kiss is any sign, I’d say their marriage is going to be a lot more than in name only.

  Wait! It’s not over!

  Jo may have found her father’s killer, but this cowgirl is in even more trouble. Are you ready to read more?

  Jo and the bounty hunter may have gotten hitched, but have they sealed the deal and saved her land from the gambler?

  CLICK HERE to get your copy of The Cowgirl Takes The Bounty, so you can keep reading today!

  And make sure you’re on Susan’s list so that you hear about all her new releases, special giveaways, and other bonuses.

  You can do that here: susanlower.com/newsletter-sign-up

  What’s Next?

  Give a girl a husband, a debt, and a bounty to collect… and she’ll turn the town upside down.

  The bounty hunter wants to keep our marriage in name only. The gambler isn’t above blackmail, and the whole town is in a tizzy over the railroad coming to Deadwood.

  Over my dead body!

  Okay, maybe not mine, but when the new railroad owner is accused of murder and puts out a reward to catch the actual killer, what’s a girl to do?

  My claim is at stake. Maybe my heart, too.

  The sooner I return to my home in the mountains, the less heartache I’ll have. No one catches the bounty hunter, but the gambler is on to us. The bounty hunter has been side-stepping me ever since the judge declared us husband and wife. If I can’t rope him into a proper marriage, the gambler will take more than my precious land. All he must do is prove to the judge the bounty hunter and I haven’t sealed the deal. His attempts to woo me are getting hard to resist.

  I’m desperate enough to hunt down this bounty on my own.

  And given the circumstances, I can’t afford not to get my man. Getting the reward money will pay off my debts, but it may also become one big disaster.

  CLICK HERE to get your copy of THE COWGIRL TAKES THE BOUNTY so that you can keep reading today!

  SNEAK PEAK OF THE COWGIRL TAKES THE BOUNTY

  It’s a Thursday night and the table is set for a dinner party in the back corner of the dining room of Deadwood Hotel. Outside the rain is coming down, slow and steady. Earlier in the day, I watched the stage unload its passengers and head for the stables. Whoever planned on leaving tonight would have to stay until the rain let up.

  Inside, a fire is crackling to ward off the chill. It’s early May and I can’t seem to shake this foreboding chill.

  Daphne Davenport pushes back one of her dark curls, narrowing her almost violet eyes at waitress handing Pierce Weston, aka the gambler, a drink.

  A few weeks ago, the gambler won my hand of marriage in a card game along with half the rights to my father and I’s claim up in the mountains.

  While he might have gotten my father’s half of the claim, thanks to Chord’s quick thinking and the judge, he didn’t get me.

  The gambler lifts his brandy glass, swirling it before taking a sip. He’s a sly one, this gambling man. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Even now, his eyes, emerald like the jewel, take in everyone in the room. His gaze lingering on me the longest.

  Even though Daphne has made it clear the gambler is hers. I still h
ave something he wants. Without the other half of the claim, he can’t sell it to the railroad and make a fortune. I can’t afford to let him. There is more at stake than money. An entire tribe of people are dependent on that land.

  The gambler winks, and Daphne reaches for her fan from the corner of the table, snapping it open and hiding half her face.

  Her eastern frills haven’t gone unnoticed. Jed Warner the hotel owner can’t keep his eyes off her.

  Daphne is the daughter of Mr. Davenport, an investor from Boston who has traveled west with Thomas Conway who owns the railroad coming through Deadwood.

  “Jodie!” Daphne Davenport turns her attention on me. Ever since we met a couple weeks back, she has got my name wrong. She took Jo Dean, for Jodie, sounding more like “Jo-Dee” with her fancy eastern accent.

  I’m still getting used to the fact that isn’t my name anymore. It’s not Dean. It’s Townes. That’s right, Mrs. Chord Townes to be frank about it. I’m married to the bounty hunter.

  I met him the day my father died. Yep, right after good ole Earl bet me and our mine claim in a card game. He lost. The gambler won. And my father turned up dead.

  “Daphne,” I grit my teeth and try to smile. She’s got her hair all twisted up in the back, much like I image her panties are over the gambler.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” she opens her arms and gives me the biggest hug. I stand, arms down, it takes a moment before I can gently pat her on the back. Then she’s two steps away, her attention on the gambler. “That was sly of you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, please.” She giggles, covering her mouth that fan of hers and batting her lashes. Is she trying to flirt with him this far away? Her high-pitched giggle catches the attention of two gentlemen speaking with Mr. Davenport, Daphne’s father. I’ve never seen these men before tonight.

  One wears a brown jacket and bolo around his neck. He’s not bad to look at. The other has jet black hair and a hawk-like nose. He nods at Daphne, but her eyes on the gambler’s back.