by DAVIDSON, Carolyn. MALLERY, Susan. WILLIAMS, Bronwyn (in) Montana Mavericks
For better or worse, he was home. If he ended up getting himself kicked out on his backside, so be it. He had survived the big city. If he could get through the first few minutes, he could probably survive his home-coming.
Tugging at his necktie with one hand, he rapped sharply on the door with the other. Before he could knock a second time, the door swung open.
Silence. And then, “Will? Jesus, is it you?”
“You gonna send for the sheriff or invite me inside?”
TIME FLEW as both men talked at once, then both fell silent for long moments. Hungry eyes devoured the tracks of time on two faces that bore a striking similarity. Will said, “I ran into James in town. He told me about Marie and Zeke. And, uh—Ruth?” He’d caught sight of a small boy that reminded him of a much younger Brock.
Caleb, never a garrulous man at the best of times, nodded. And then a stunning, solemn-looking woman came in with a tray of coffee and fry bread dusted with sugar and cinnamon. Immediately, Will recognized her.
Ruth, his brother’s Cheyenne wife, smiled, and any question of why Caleb had married her disappeared. She exhibited the same blend of dignity and shyness he’d seen in so many of the women from Laughing Horse Reservation.
As for the small boy clinging to her skirt, playing hide and seek with him, Will nodded, smiled and said, “Zeke, pleased to meet you.” He didn’t push it. Time was on his side.
Caleb scooped the boy up onto his lap. “How about you, are you married yet?”
“Lord, no, I don’t have time for a wife. I plan to start a bank. Not just savings and loan, but investments, as well. Learning the business didn’t leave a whole lot of time for courting.”
“In some ways, little brother, you haven’t learned anything.” The blue-eyed little boy scrambled down, grabbed up the last of the fry bread and darted away, drawing a fond swat from his father.
Will leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I learned how to make money. Learned how to make it work for me, too. Hey, I did it honestly,” he added when Caleb’s eyebrows rose to majestic heights. Deciding that the moment had come, he stood, excused himself and went outside to retrieve his saddlebags. Filled with gold—a rather theatrical gesture, he thought now that it was too late—he staggered under the weight as he returned to drop a small fortune at his brother’s feet.
“Two thousand in gold coin, plus interest compounded over ten years. If you want to count it, I’ve got nowhere to go for the next few hours.”
Caleb slowly lost all the color in his face until his eyes looked like twin bruises. He swore softly. “Count it, hell. Take it back, William. I don’t want it.”
“It’s yours. Fair and square. I hadn’t even got as far as town before I regretted taking it, but I was too big a coward to go back and face the music.”
Caleb swore some more. Once he’d inherited the ranch he’d all but stopped swearing. Turned into a stranger almost overnight. Stopped damn near everything that came as second nature to most men in their early twenties. “Do anything you want to with it, Will, but I’m not taking it.”
“Dammit, Caleb, I need to do this!”
“All right, then how about if we park it somewhere safe until you climb down off your high horse.”
“You and your damned stiff-necked pride, you’ve always got to call the shots. How about—”
“How about if we bury it for now. First one that needs it can dig it up.”
Grumbling a bit, Will gave in. Knowing his brother, it was the best he could do for the moment. The last thing he wanted was to come to blows and have to leave town again. He didn’t have another ten years to spare.
Predictably, they argued over where to bury it. Will suggested someplace on the ranch. “You can leave a letter in the safe so that Ruth or the boy, or maybe Brock will know where to find it if they ever need it. By the way, where is our baby brother?”
Caleb looked away and frowned. “Your guess is as good as mine. I mentioned sending him east to school, and he took off. He’s been doing that lately. Last time he was working on a spread down in Wyoming. Got busted up doing a little rodeoing and came home to mend.”
“Is he—?” Will didn’t know how to frame the question, but Caleb answered it anyway.
“Yeah, he’s a good kid. Rock-headed, but sound as a double eagle.”
“Speaking of double eagles—”
“Forget it. All of them, Brock, Ruth and Zeke, are taken care of in my will. Besides, burying it on my property would give me the advantage. How about we wait and put it in this bank you’re talking about building?”
“That would give me the advantage. So far I don’t own a square foot of Montana, much less a bank. At least the ranch is Kincaid property.”
“We’ll cut cards then. High card gets to call the shots.”
“No thanks, big brother. I learned two things the night I left here. One of ’em is not to get in the way of your right cross, the other is never to argue over money. I guess we’ll just have to dump the gold in the river and make some poor miner downstream happy.”
Settling back in his chair, Caleb steepled his hands, studying his younger brother. “You’ve changed.”
Warily, Will nodded. “So has the rest of the world. Ten years is a long time.”
“Yeah. I notice you’ve got a few gray hairs now.”
“I see you’ve got a few more frown lines.”
“Looked in a mirror recently?”
Both men grinned as the tension that had threatened momentarily seeped away. “Remember how we used to settle our disagreements?”
Will rubbed his jaw, and Caleb chuckled. “Not that way. I’m getting too old for fistfights, but the old Double Deuce is still standing.”
“I noticed. James says they’re getting ready to expand.”
Caleb shrugged. “Town’s growing. What d’you say we ride into town and have a drink to celebrate. Maybe on the way we can come up with some way to settle this business with the gold. I’ll have Ruth make up a bed while we’re gone.”
“I’ll take you up on the drinks, but I’ve already got a room in town. If I’m lucky, my trunk will have been delivered by now.”
Caleb hesitated, nodded, then went to say good-night to his son. Will sought out his sister-in-law and thanked her for her hospitality, then went outside to wait.
God, it was good to be back. The smells, the sight—the freedom…
Will mounted up and waited until Caleb had saddled his own horse, then the two brothers headed toward town to celebrate the long overdue reconciliation. There’d been a time in their carefree days when they had needed no excuse to repair to the Double Deuce. Whisky and women served the purpose, whether a man was celebrating a win, consoling himself for a loss or just passing time with friends. Even after all this time, there was still a certain feeling of rightness in riding into town together.
“Place has changed a lot in ten years,” Will observed as they passed a new construction site just north of town.
“New school going up. I doubt if we’ll rival Bozeman or Helena anytime soon, but yeah, it’s growing,” Caleb said laconically. “New people moving in. New businesses. I’ll say this for you, baby brother—your sense of timing’s still as sharp as ever. If you’re serious about this bank business, I can introduce you to a couple of men who might be able to help you find a suitable property. Fellow named McCutcheon moved to town a few years ago. Bought up a few places on speculation.”
“Hmm?” Will’s attention had strayed to the sagging balcony outside the back of the saloon, where a few of the “girls” with their low-cut, wasp-waisted bodices and their short, knee-baring skirts, were leaning over the railing, calling down to the cowboys below.
The town might have changed almost beyond recognition, he mused, but some things never changed.
CHAPTER TWO
LAUGHING OVER the remembrance of games they had once played—hunting for lost gold mines, discovering bank robbers’ loot and rescuing fair maidens whose grateful fat
hers’ paid huge rewards, the two men bickered lightheartedly over whether to bury the gold on the Kincaid ranch, thus giving the advantage to Caleb, or save it and deposit it in Will’s bank.
In the end, on the farthest corner, hidden by a shed, they buried the treasure under a cornerstone of the expansion that was already underway. Each man dropped in a personal token. “Proof of ownership,” Caleb said, “In case it’s ever needed”
Will wiped his brow and grabbed his shovel. Digging was damned hard work. Thirsty work. A few minutes later, still grinning, they shoved open the double swinging doors and went inside to celebrate a long overdue reunion.
There was a new mirror above the bar and a new man behind it, but other than that, little had changed. The table over in the corner where five men shoved piles of chips back and forth and scowled over their cards could be the very same one Will had carved his initials in when he was fourteen and used to sneak inside to ogle the women.
Caleb held up two fingers. A few minutes later, one of the girls headed toward them with a carefully balanced tray. “It would have to be the homeliest one in the house,” Will muttered as he reached inside his coat for his wallet.
He was still struggling to extract a bill when all hell broke loose. Someone near the bar drew a pistol and fired a shot. Half a dozen women screamed in shrill unison as the mirror shattered noisily. Before Will could react, something hard whacked him across the nose. Sticky liquid splashed all over the front of his shirt and leaked down into his trousers.
He stared down at his lap in disgust. “Dammit, lady, watch where you’re going!”
Caleb covered a snort of laughter with a cough while Will dragged out his handkerchief and began mopping the whiskey off his chin. The handkerchief came away bloody. His nose was bleeding!
The woman was on her knees, babbling apologies and trying to mop his pants off with the tail of her gauzy skirt. Glaring down at the back of her skinny neck, Will scowled at the pale silken valley of her nape and growled, “Dammit, quit that, haven’t you done enough damage?” He grabbed a wrist that was scarcely bigger around than a child’s and yanked it away from his privates. He didn’t think she was trying to drum up business, but if she was, he could tell her flat out she was doomed to failure.
“Lizzy, get the hell off your knees and go fetch a bucket and a clean rag!”
“It wasn’t her fault, Cam,” Caleb said quietly. “Fellow at the next table dropped onto all fours when the shooting started and she tripped over his boots.”
Will looked pointedly at the next table, which was a good four feet away. “Nice try, brother,” he muttered. The woman was trying to drum up business, that was the long and short of it. Judging from her looks, she probably had to run a man down, knock him out and drag him upstairs. No wonder she looked as if she hadn’t had a decent meal in days.”
“I’m really dreadfully sorry, sir, I’ll pay for—for everything.” Juliet Elizabeth Price-Hawthorne forced herself to speak calmly. Pay with what, she hadn’t a clue. She already owed a small fortune—at least her brother did, which was why she was here, calling herself Lizzy Price and trying her best to earn her keep as a serving girl.
Just moments before Cam had sent her over to the table with two doubles and two cigars, he had informed her that as payment was overdue, starting tonight she was going to have to earn her keep upstairs, same as the other girls. “’Cause you sure as shootin’ ain’t any good to me as a waitress.”
She could have argued that if he’d allow her to wear her own shoes, she might do better, but she’d been too paralyzed to speak a word. Besides, it was true. No matter how the other girls tried to coach her, she constantly mixed up orders because she couldn’t bring herself to look at the faces of the men she served. She jumped whenever anyone pinched her, backing into other girls and causing them to spill their trays.
Cam was right. She was a failure. But she couldn’t do the other, she really couldn’t. She would die first. Thankfully, no one wanted her, anyway. Tonight she’d been on her best behavior, trying doubly hard not to spill anything and to keep her orders separate. She’d been doing really well until that drunken fool at the bar had started shooting. When the gun had gone off, she’d panicked, tried to turn too quickly, and in the wobbly red satin high heels shoes that didn’t fit her because they had belonged to another girl, she had tripped over her own feet.
Cam’s hard fingers grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet. “Gol-dammit, girl, I warned you!”
She clutched the nearest thing she could find for support. It happened to be a hard, wet thigh. Slowly, the man she had drenched rose to his feet. Reeking of whiskey, he stared down at her until she wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Ignoring her, he spoke to the proprietor. “I believe the situation is under control.”
The bartender, still gripping the frail arm, shook his head. “This wench here, she ain’t worth what it takes to feed her. I’m real sorry about that, Kincaid.” He addressed his remarks to Caleb, who was barely managing to repress his laughter. “Next round’s on the house.”
“No problem, Cam, the poor girl really couldn’t help it.”
“Can’t earn her keep downstairs, too damned snooty to earn it upstairs—I don’t run no charity operation here, y’know.”
Will knew how these places operated, knew the kind of women who worked in saloons. For the most part, the ones he’d known had enjoyed their work, using it as a stepping stone to something better, more often than not. Some married, some went into business for themselves.
So it didn’t make sense that he should feel sorry for the clumsy girl who had just broken his nose and ruined a perfectly good outfit, even though she was shaking like an aspen, obviously scared out of her wits.
He scowled at his monogrammed Irish linen handkerchief. It was ruined, too, but at least his nose had stopped bleeding. His gaze fell on the thick fingers that were still biting into the poor girl’s wrist. With skin like hers, so delicate it looked almost translucent, she would bear the marks of that grip for days to come. “I think you can unhand her now,” he said quietly.
“Go get a rag and bucket and scrub this mess up, and be quick about it, girlie. You still got to turn a trick or two before the night’s over.”
Even Will had the grace to blush at the crudeness of the remark. He’d long since lost count of all the women he had taken upstairs in one saloon or another. He did know he’d never once been ashamed of buying what they were selling. With this one, he would. That is, he would if he were to do it. Not that he would, because as women went, she didn’t have much to offer. A skinny body with no curves to speak of, red hair that was badly dyed and tangled into an impossible nest. Paint had been layered onto her small face with a trowel, probably in an effort to disguise her youth.
Will couldn’t have said which of them was more surprised—Cam, Caleb, the girl or himself, when he stepped forward and removed the proprietor’s hamlike hand from her arm. Crooking his elbow, he said politely, “Miss, er—Lizzy, if you would be so kind as to accompany me upstairs, we might see what we can do about repairing the damage.” His nose was beginning to swell shut.
Cam grunted something about drunks and whores and stalked off to deal with the mess behind the bar. Caleb was grinning like a possum while Lizzy, her eyes round as saucers, continued to tremble. Looking from one to the other, Caleb slowly shook his head. “You been hitting the locoweed, William?”
“That might explain it,” he replied ruefully, holding the wet handkerchief to his nose. Nothing else could. He’d had a single drink back at the ranch. Hadn’t even got around to having another when disaster had struck in the form of a clumsy lady of the evening.
“I’ll ride out to the ranch tomorrow,” Will said, resigned to spending the next few minutes getting himself cleaned up. Damned if he was going to walk through Amos Carlton’s lobby smelling like a distillery.
Taking the poor girl by the arm, he led her toward the stairs, miserably aware of the eyes tha
t followed their progress. There were a few hoots and catcalls. Someone called out a ribald comment. Squaring his shoulders, Will ignored them. He tried and failed to ignore the trembling hand tucked under his arm.
Dammit, it didn’t make sense. After nearly a week of traveling he was exhausted, mentally and physically. He wasn’t drunk, unless the fumes were more potent than he thought, but how else could he explain going upstairs in sodden clothing on his first night home, with the woman who had busted him on the nose? A woman who had all the attractions of a starving cat?
Surely she wasn’t expecting him to…
There was no way in hell he was going to— Besides, even if he wasn’t too tired, he wouldn’t have been interested. He felt sorry for her, but that was all. It wasn’t the expression in her eyes. It wasn’t the shape of her mouth under all that paint. It sure as the devil wasn’t her figure.
He’d always been a sucker for strays, human and otherwise. It was one of his few weaknesses. If he could get the poor creature past an uncomfortable moment with her boss, then why not? He’d been on the receiving end of a few favors in his young and reckless days.
She led him to a closet-size room at the end of the hall. “It’s not much,” she said apologetically. “I haven’t been here all that long, and the best rooms were already taken.”
“If there’s a basin and a pitcher of water, that’s all I’m interested in.”
Her look of relief was almost comical. Evidently, he appealed to her no more than she did to him. Wordlessly, she poured tepid water into the heavy bowl and set a towel and a sliver of soap beside it. Will unbuttoned his shirt.
“You want to make yourself useful? How about finding me a mirror so I can see how much damage you did to my nose.” He peeled off his shirt and reached for his belt.
Lizzy widened her eyes, then turned away. The mirror she produced was purse-size, the back sterling silver. It was so obviously out of keeping with the room’s cheap furnishing that he stared at the fleur-de-lis design and then glanced up and the woman hovering beside the door.