His green-eyed gaze caught Charity’s and her throat caught just a bit. She quickly composed herself. Business, she separated from pleasure. Always. And everything was business. The minute she let her guard down, she’d be the fish instead of the fisherman.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.”
“The pleasure is definitely all mine, Miss Charity. In fact, I could gaze upon your fair face for a considerable amount of time and never grow weary of such beauty.”
Helen sighed, a yearning for undying romance written all over her face. “That’s so...” She sighed again as she stuffed her crocheting back in the basket and shoved it under the seat. Her stomach growled audibly.
Gil chuckled and offered his hand to help Charity extricate herself from the uncomfortable bench. “Sounds like I didn’t show up any too soon.”
“We would have managed on our own, Mr. Smith.” She didn’t mention that conversing with him would be a welcome break from listening to Helen’s eighteen-year-old starry-eyed notions. Everything was Patrick this, Patrick that.
“I’m sure you would have,” he said to Charity as he offered his other hand to Miss Helen.
Because the dinner hour was nearly over, most of the passengers had left the dining car and returned to their seats. Charity led them to a table near the front and sat in the corner.
“Mr. Smith, we’re in, uh, difficulties. Can I trust you?” She made her living by reading people, and she knew she could trust this man—to a point. By his demeanor, she was positive that he’d be game for a little adventure.
“As well as any, I suppose.”
Helen’s gaze darted from Gil to Charity and back. “Don’t tell him!”
Charity pattered her hand. “It’s all right, dear. More eyes will help.”
“My sister is trying to keep out of sight of a couple who are angry because Helen escaped from them. You see, they kept her at their house and worked her like a slave. But when they left, so did she. I met her in Durango. The thing is, we could have stayed a day there and let this horrid couple travel on, but our parents are ill and we need to get to Nevada as soon as we can.”
“Nevada, as in Virginia City?”
“Why, yes. How did you know?”
Gil chuckled. “You said Patrick O’Shaughnessy was in Virginia City. I thought that’s where your parents might be.”
“Them, too.” She chided herself for her carelessness.
“So this man and wife are on the train?”
“Yes. They don’t know what I look like, but Helen must be kept from their sight, lest they take her into their clutches again and prevent her from marrying Patrick.”
“And what do these people look like?”
“The man is six-foot-two, nearly black hair, dark blue eyes. Well built. He has an easy smile. He usually wears nice clothing—”
“Like a thoroughbred gambler would wear?”
“Yes.”
“So don’t tell me. The woman is about your height, dark hair, pixie face, with hazel eyes that look green or blue depending on what she wears.”
“That’s right. How did you know?”
“I’ve had a game or two with them. Their names, in case you don’t know, are Burke O’Shaughnessy, who is Patrick’s brother, by the way, and Alexandra Campbell. They’re not married.”
Helen sucked in her breath. “She’s not related.”
That girl would be the worst capper in the history of gambling, Charity swore.
“I didn’t say you were.” Gil gestured for the waiter. “You two don’t look a thing alike, whereas you definitely resemble your beautiful half-sister.”
At the blank look on Helen’s face, he added, “Miss Charity.”
“Oh.” Helen cleared her throat. “Yes.”
Charity rolled her eyes as the waiter came to their table with three glasses of water. Gil ordered for the two ladies without asking what they wanted. Charity’s irritation with him was minor, though, compared to her frustration with Helen.
“So,” Gil said after the waiter left, “you’re trying to keep Helen away from Burke and Lexie?”
“Yes,” Charity answered, “And we’d like you to give us fair warning if you see them.”
“I’ll do better than that. I have a private Pullman car and the two of you are welcome to stay there.”
It was an ideal solution except for one thing... “And where will you be staying?”
“The car has two rooms. You ladies can have the bedroom and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Charity knew that no one ever got something for nothing, but his offer was tailor-made to keep Helen out of the way. Besides, Charity could take care of herself. As for Helen, Mr. Smith didn’t seem to have any designs on her. Still, he warranted watching.
“I’ll need to leave the train for a while in Alamosa. Helen can stay in your Pullman while I take care of my errand.”
Alamosa boasted a fairly decent hotel and Charity knew Burke and Lexie would stay there, rather than in the next city, Antonito. All Charity had to do was leave a message with the hotel maid to be delivered late at night.
“Shall we toast our new arrangements with a glass of wine?” Gil waved to the waiter, who, towel in one hand and bottle in the other, came to pour.
Another fish ready to hook, Charity thought as she studied Gil. Hell, he was hooking himself.
She smiled sweetly as she raised her glass and clinked it with Gil’s.
Chapter 6
Burke scanned the street for pickpockets as he escorted Lexie off the train in the small, dusty town of Antonito. The Denver & Rio Grande Railroad Depot was constructed of lava rock, and she brushed her finger along the wall.
“You can look at the walls when we get back. I need to nose around a bit and see if Patrick left any tracks here.”
“We have three hours before the next train leaves.” She turned toward him. “Two minutes of dawdling won’t hurt a thing.”
“Have you seen Charity?”
“No.”
And that seemed fine with Lexie. Burke raked his fingers through his hair, a might befuddled. He didn’t mind that Charity had made herself scarce—they often worked solo and he wouldn’t horn in on her party. She’d do the same for him. But frankly, he was glad that she’d gone her own way. Lexie’s overt politeness hadn’t covered the huffiness he’d detected. Charity had been pleasant and charming as always and, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand what had precipitated Lexie’s unreasonable hostility.
He guided her around the corner to Main Street and spotted the Golden Nugget Saloon.
“Does every dinky town in Colorado have a saloon named Nugget?”
“Yep, seems so.” He pulled her a bit closer when a drunk wandered their way. “Same as in Arizona, Nevada, and Idaho.”
“You’d think they’d be a little more original.”
The inebriated man collapsed in the middle of the street. Seconds later, curses from a muleskinner and the crack of his whip prevented the fellow from being thoroughly stomped by a mule team heading into town.
Lexie’s eyes widened and she covered her eyes with a gloved hand. “Go help him, Burke.”
“If you’d look, darlin’, you’d see the town marshal out there dragging the poor man to the boardwalk.”
Lexie uncovered her eyes just in time to see the marshal throw the drunk into the horse trough.
“Hey, there!” shouted a passerby. “Don’t dirty up the horses’ drinking water.”
She tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Rent a room for the man so he can sleep it off safely.”
Burke raised an eyebrow. “Why, Miss Lexie, have you gone soft on me? It seems just like yesterday that you got all in a huff about me giving money to a girl down on her luck.”
“It was this morning,” she bit out. “And you gave her a small fortune.”
The marshal hefted the wet drunk onto his shoulder and strode to the city jail. Burke urged Lexie on. “Looks like your friend already got himself a room.”
The familiar tune of the Golden Nugget’s piano trickled through the catcalls of the cowboys to the miners. Burke knew a tinderbox when he saw one, and anytime cowboys and miners mixed, there’d be fire. “I’ll get a room for the afternoon. You can stay there while I check out the saloon.”
“I fully intend to be at the depot at three-thirty. You’re not leaving without me.”
He gave her a little sideways hug. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be back.”
Yes, he’d originally planned to get rid of her at the first safe opportunity, but for now, he just wanted to enjoy her company. Besides, despite her miserable experience at gambling, he knew she had the makin’s of a helluva good capper. His capper.
“Oh, look! A hair salon.” Her smile beamed a mile. “I’d love to have the cinders and soot washed out of my hair.”
No man could help but feel proud to have a woman like her on his arm. He pulled some money out of his vest pocket. “You’ve got three hours. Spruce up to your heart’s content.”
She took the money and ducked into the salon, not even taking the time to record it in her ledger. He chuckled and headed for the piano music.
The Golden Nugget’s claim to fame was its size. Everything else was the same as any other saloon—the cigar smoke, the whiskey, and the piano music. A scantily-clad saloon girl brushed her young breasts against his arm. “Buy me a drink?”
“Do you go to school?”
She snorted and backed away.
“I’ll do better than buy you a drink if you give me an hour or two.”
“Forget it,” she clipped. “I’m not working upstairs yet.”
“Thank God for that,” he muttered as he made his way through the crowded room to the poker table.
“Got room for one more?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Burke took a seat and put twenty bucks on the table. He won the first hand, taking in eighty dollars, lost fifteen dollars on the second hand, then pulled in nearly four hundred with a full house.
“Any of you fellows seen a man named Patrick O’Shaughnessy?”
The card players silenced and stared at him.
“I take it you have. I’m looking for him.”
“Ain’t we all. The bastard got me for over a thousand just last week. Couldn’t prove he cheated, but dammit all, I never seen a man with such good luck.”
“Not luck, my good man. He’s damned good.”
The player to Burke’s right threw in his hand. “Good as you?”
“Well,” Burke drawled, “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. You know where Patrick went?”
The others threw in their hands, too. One said, “My woman will kill me if I don’t buy her supplies and get home before dark.” The others made similar excuses and within a minute or two, Burke was sitting at the table all by himself.
At least he knew that Patrick had been there. And he’d made a few bucks. He rolled up the bills, stashed the coins, and sought out the saloon girl.
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars and a train ticket and a nice, proper dress if you go see Miss Mary Clare Ingersoll in Denver. She runs Miss Ingersoll’s Academy for Women. Just tell her Burke sent you.” He held the money just out of her reach. “Deal?”
“What’s your angle, buster?” Her harsh tone spoke of hard times.
“The angle is that you have to help someone else someday.”
“Ha. You’re planning to sell me, aren’t you?”
“You’re too young to be so cynical. Quit this job while you still have some dignity and come with me. I have a lady friend who can help you with your shopping.” He practically dragged her out of the Golden Nugget. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“Candy.”
“What’s your real name?”
“I ain’t got one.”
“All right, then what did the mother who birthed you call you?”
“Would you quit pulling on my wrist? I’m coming!”
“Name?”
“Abigail. Abbie, for short.”
“And your last name?”
“Smith. And don’t give me no crap. It really is Smith.”
She stopped short of the beauty shop door. “They don’t want the likes of me in here,” she whispered.
“As of right now, you’ve left that behind. You’re Abbie Smith.”
“You might think that, but they’re not a’gonna think so.”
He opened the door and escorted—pushed, actually—her in. The place was filled with women, all in various stages of beautification. Lexie was already beautified, sitting on the side with a magazine on her lap.
The hairdresser gasped. “Get out! This is no place for men, and we don’t allow garbage in here.” She pointed to Abbie, whose lower lip trembled.
“Lexie, are you finished?”
“Yes, I was just reading the latest Godey’s while I waited for you.”
“Good. Let’s go.” Once outside, he explained, “Abbie, here, needs some decent clothes. She’s on her way to Denver to attend Miss Ingersoll’s Academy for Women. She wants to be a...” He frowned and studied the girl. “What do you want to be?”
“A schoolteacher.”
Triumphant, he turned back to Lexie. “She wants to be a schoolteacher. And she needs some dresses and what-not.”
Lexie smirked as she eyed the poor girl up and down. “I can see that. She’s especially going to need the what-not.”
Burke wondered if Lexie would dare enter a store with a half-naked saloon girl. Few women would even consider it.
“Burke, give me your duster.” He shrugged off his coat and handed it to her.
She wrapped it around Abbie. “Come with me. We’ve got clothes to buy, a face to wash, and a train to catch.”
“I’ll see you at the depot in less than an hour.” He grinned as the two women entered the general mercantile. What a woman that Lexie was. Any man would be lucky to have a woman with such a pure heart. As straight-laced as she was, she put that aside to help the less fortunate girl. With his money.
Something he needed more of. He went back to the Golden Nugget and, after receiving a berating by the barkeep for stealing his girl, settled in for a few more hands of five-card stud. A bit later and couple hundred dollars to the good, he checked his timepiece and headed for the depot.
Lexie waited for him, tickets already purchased. Beside her stood a stunning, but proper young woman barely recognizable as the former saloon girl.
“Meet Miss Abigail Smith.” Lexie looked like a proud mother. “Miss Smith, this is Mr. Burke O’Shaughnessy.”
Abbie looked a bit pinched in her new get-up, but she’d get used to it, he suspected. He tipped his hat. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Smith.”
They stopped by the telegraph office. Neither of them had received any wires, so they boarded the train. Burke seated the ladies and stowed their bags, then went to buy them each a ginger ale.
As the whistle blew and the train started to move, Burke was jerked back, between cars, a knife pressed to his throat. “Where’s that stinkin’ brother of yours?” The voice was unpleasantly familiar.
Wardell! The man pressed the knife precariously close to Burke’s Adam’s apple, making speech a might tricky. “Don’t know.”
“Don’t know? Or won’t tell.”
Neither. Burke held his silence until Wardell let the knife slide a little lower. Burke slammed his head back as he rammed his attacker’s arm forward. Wardell stumbled, pulling Burke down with him, still struggling for control of the knife. As Burke loosened Wardell’s grip on the handle, he kicked the side gate open and both men tumbled off the train.
* * *
Lexie had searched the train high and low, finally concluding that she’d been remiss to put her confidence in a man who couldn’t be trusted. Burke was definitely not aboard.
She gritted her teeth and fought back the fear that gripped her heart. She’d grown to enjoy his banter, his smile, and his lighthearted outlook on life
. She’d seen his tenderness and generosity to those less fortunate, even though he was generous with other people’s money. Most of all, and Lexie forced herself to admit it, he’d treated her like a normal woman instead of a bluestocking. She’d felt desirable for the first time.
And now he was gone.
By the time she returned to her seat, she missed him already. Stupid, she knew. The man couldn’t be more inappropriate for her if she’d made a list of objectionable traits. Still, his handsome looks and charming demeanor would linger in her memory for a long time to come. Of that, she was certain.
“Mr. O’Shaughnessy is no longer with us,” she told Abigail.
The girl’s eyebrows shot up. “But where did he go?”
“I don’t know.” Lexie patted her hand. “I’ll see to it that you get to Miss Ingersoll’s Academy for Women, but I’m low on funds. You’ll have to use some of the money he gave you for train fare.”
Abigail nodded slightly, then pursed her lips. She stared straight ahead and didn’t utter a word.
“I’m sure everything will be all right. He wouldn’t have sent you to Miss Ingersoll if he didn’t plan to follow through with your education.”
“Or, it could be a front for selling girls,” Abigail muttered. “He’s a gambler, you know.”
At that point, Lexie had to concede that he was a rotten scoundrel who’d gained her confidence, then tromped all over her trust by abandoning her. In light of his defection, she had no reason to believe that he wouldn’t abandon the girl as well. But he’d never sell her or any other girl to a house of ill-repute.
“Yes, he’s a gambler of the first water, but Mary Clare Ingersoll is a lady.” Lexie tugged on her gloves, hoping Abigail didn’t catch her in a lie, and that Miss Ingersoll really was a lady.
The train slowed, the whistle tooted, and both women covered their faces to protect themselves from cinders and soot. After they’d disembarked, Lexie directed the porter to deliver the trunks, both hers and Burke’s, to the nearest hotel. Abigail only had a carpetbag, which she refused to let the porter carry.
Lexie wrote it off to the girl never having nice things of her own, and didn’t insist. “I’ll buy the tickets for the morning train to Cuchura, then we’ll find a place to freshen up.”
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 169