“And maybe it would have come sooner,” Archie said, motioning for Kyle to regain his seat. “We need to shower them with kindness not frighten them half to death.”
“Who said a word about half? I’m willin’ to go the whole way if it’ll get them to stop caterwaulin’ outside my saloon,” Kyle said, drawing guffaws from his small band of supporters.
Gideon stood and leveled his glare at the man. “How about you and I have a contest? Whoever wins gets to dictate how things transpire with the temperance committee.”
Kyle stood and sneered at Gideon. “What kind of contest? If you say a horserace, I’m not playin’ along. Everyone knows that black devil of yours is the fastest thing this side of the Mississippi.”
“You set the terms,” Gideon magnanimously offered.
A sly grin crossed Kyle’s face. “Then I challenge you to a drinkin’ contest. Whoever is still standin’ after an hour gets to decide how we treat those temperance biddies.” It wasn’t a secret that Gideon never imbibed or that Kyle spent more time drunk than sober.
Much to the surprise of every man in the room, Gideon agreed to Kyle’s challenge. “Fine. A drinking contest it is, but I get to choose the location and time.”
“Fair enough,” Kyle said.
“I choose Drake’s place this evening. Be there at seven.” Gideon glanced at his friend and Drake nodded his head.
“And you can pay for the booze. I want some of that top dollar whiskey,” Kyle said, regaining his seat as his friends slapped his back in encouragement.
“Whiskey’s fine with me,” Gideon said. Plans whirred in his mind as he sat at the table and caught the puzzled looks Drake and Archie shot his direction.
Archie discussed a few other matters then concluded the meeting.
After Kyle and his buddies left, Archie walked out with Drake and Gideon. “Are you really gonna let Kyle drink you under the table?”
“That thought never crossed my mind.” Gideon offered Archie a broad smile. “There’s no way I’m letting him terrorize the temperance committee.
“But you never drink, Gideon. Kyle spends more time inebriated on that watered-down booze he sells than he does sober.” Archie stopped as they reached the corner. “What are you planning?”
“I’m planning on winning that challenge, Archie. Don’t you worry about a thing.” Gideon thumped him on the shoulder then sauntered down the street to the Second Chance Saloon with Drake beside him.
Drake followed him inside and took a seat at the kitchen table. Gideon poured them both a cup of coffee and slid a plate of freshly baked applesauce muffins toward him.
Eagerly, Drake bit into a muffin and savored the moist flavor. He ate a second one before he broached the subject hanging heavy between the two of them.
“I don’t mind hosting that idiotic challenge at my place, Gid, but what in the heck are you thinking? Even if you wanted to, which I know for a fact you don’t, you couldn’t out-drink that boozer.”
Gideon leaned back in his chair and calmly sipped his coffee. “That’s why I don’t plan to actually drink any whiskey.”
Confused, Drake stared at him. “What do you plan to do?”
“Boil up some tea and fill a few bottles with it. I’ll insist you do the pouring and you’ll make sure every glass I drink has tea instead of whiskey.”
Drake grinned. “I like the way you think. Kyle will be boots up before he’s halfway through the first bottle and have no idea what’s going on.”
“Especially when I bring good whiskey for him to drink. He’s so used to that watered-down juice he serves at his place he won’t know what hit him.”
Drake held out his coffee cup. “To devious, underhanded plans.”
Gideon touched his cup to the one his friend held. “I sure hope our local temperance committee members appreciate everything I do to keep them out of trouble.”
A chuckle rolled out of Drake. “They don’t have any idea, Gid. If they did, Millie would probably challenge Kyle herself just to prove she could.”
By seven that evening, word had spread all over town that two of the saloon owners were in a drinking contest to be held at Drake’s place. The reason for the competition was conveniently left unmentioned.
Men crowded elbow to elbow in the saloon when Kyle and his friends swaggered inside. Gideon sat on a stool at the bar, waiting.
Earlier that afternoon, he’d brought over three bottles of his best whiskey along with the bottles he’d filled with tea.
Drake had shooed his bartender away from the bottles, giving orders that he alone would pour the drinks for the contest.
No one would suspect Drake and Gideon of conspiring against Kyle, since they both held a reputation of being honest and upright.
“You ready to lose, McBride?” Kyle asked as he sat down beside him.
“Nope. I’m ready to win, Steel.” Gideon gave him a quick glance, not surprised by the smug self-assurance clinging to the man like a second skin along with his ridiculous purple shirt.
“Then let’s get to it,” Kyle said, slapping his hand on the bar and looking to Drake. “Pour the first round.”
Drake filled two glasses with what appeared to be identical amber liquid, setting one before Kyle and the other in front of Gideon.
Archie Cook stood next to Drake with a watch in his hand. “On your mark, go!” he shouted as the crowd cheered.
Gideon tossed back the drink in one gulp and set his glass on the counter. Kyle swallowed his with a wince and a slight cough then thumped the glass down.
“I’m surprised, McBride. I didn’t think you’d really bring the good stuff, but that is a fine bottle of whiskey.”
“Glad you think so. Now shut up and drink.” Gideon lifted his second glass and swallowed it at the same time Kyle drank his.
Gideon and Drake had spent the better part of the morning coming up with the perfect tea-based concoction to mimic the exact color of the whiskey Kyle drank. With no one any the wiser, Gideon swallowed back shot after shot of the sweet, odd-tasting tea, watching as Kyle went from slightly intoxicated to thoroughly plastered.
Mindful of playing the part well, Gideon faked being drunk, giving his words a slight slur and listing to one side as he continued to drink. Someone jostled him from the side and Gideon caught Drake’s wink as one of the saloon girls bumped into him, spilling a glass of whiskey all over his side. Now there would be no doubt that he looked and smelled as drunk as he pretended to be.
It took another four drinks before Kyle passed out. His supporters carried him away in defeat.
Archie strutted around the bar like Aundy Nash’s cocky rooster and slapped Gideon on the back. “Fine show, son. Fine show.”
“Thanks, sir,” Gideon slurred then staggered to his feet. Drake motioned for two of his saloon girls to help him to the door.
With a girl propped beneath each arm, he whistled an off-tune version of one of his favorite songs as they tumbled through the swinging doors and right into the temperance committee.
Caught off guard, Millie stared at him in revulsion. Involuntarily, her nose wrinkled at the smell clinging to him.
“Miss Millie,” he said, reaching to doff a hat he’d forgotten to wear. “Beautiful evenin’, ain’t it, Toots?”
“Oh!” Her skirts swirled, giving him an eyeful of lace-trimmed petticoats and pink polka-dot stockings as she turned and marched down the street with the committee members following her.
Gideon smiled at the two women who stood beneath his arms and straightened. “You girls enjoy your evenin’,” he slurred then weaved his way across the street and entered his own saloon.
Abel served a few customers, although the regulars wandered in from Drake’s saloon.
“Give everyone a drink on the house!” Gideon shouted, yanking off his tie and stumbling into the kitchen.
By the time Abel poured drinks for everyone and made it back to check on him, Gideon had taken a bath and changed his clothes. To maintain his ruse
, he couldn’t immediately go find Millie, but the look of pure disgust on her face was more than he could take. Some part of his guilty conscious wouldn’t let him rest until he assured her he wasn’t drinking or carousing.
“How’d it go?” Abel asked, leaning against the counter as Gideon made himself a thick ham sandwich.
“It took a lot longer and far more whiskey than I anticipated for Kyle to pass out. I thought I might float right out of Drake’s place after drinking all that tea.”
Abel laughed and accepted the sandwich Gideon held out to him. “I still can’t get over the way you tricked him and the others.”
Gideon waved a butter-coated knife at him. “Remember, you are sworn to secrecy. You can’t even tell Louella what we did because you know she’ll tell her sister and then it’ll be all over town.”
With a motion of locking his lips, Abel smirked. “I know, boss. The only person in town with a bigger blabbermouth than Mrs. Bradshaw is my sister-in-law. I won’t say a word.”
“Good.” Gideon carried his sandwich to the table and sat down, taking a big bite out of it. “Looks like it’ll be a busy night out there.”
“Yep. The men keep coming in to rehash how well you drank Kyle beneath the bar. He’ll have a doozy of a headache in the morning.”
“I hope so,” Gideon said, making his bartender laugh. “You better get on out there. If anyone asks, you can tell them I’m not feeling too well.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Abel took his sandwich and returned to the bar.
After he ate his dinner and washed the dishes, Gideon tugged on a dark jacket and his black Stetson then slipped out the back door. By sticking to the shadows, he made his way to the lot behind Millie’s place undetected. He eased down the alley and watched as Millie bid Lacy and Grant Hill good night.
Grant took Lacy’s elbow and escorted her across the bridge toward their home while Millie unlocked the door and stepped inside.
On fast, silent feet, Gideon pushed his way inside and clamped a hand over Millie’s mouth before she could scream.
She struggled against him until he managed to turn her around and she saw who held her captive.
Fear gave way to anger and fiery sparks shot from her eyes as he kicked the door closed with the heel of his boot.
She tugged at the hand he held over her mouth and he let her go. He took a step back and locked the door behind him then handed her the key.
With a jerk, she took it from his hand and shook it in his face. “You scared me spitless and witless, Gideon McBride. How dare you sneak in here like that! I want nothing to do with you, so you just march yourself right on out that door.”
She stepped past him, intent on unlocking the door, but Gideon grabbed her arm, pulling her against him.
“I’m not leaving until you and I talk about a few things.” Still holding her arm, he pushed her toward the stairs.
“You were as drunk as I’ve ever seen anyone not an hour ago, and you looked quite pleased with your choice of companions, too. If you think I’m going to let you drag me upstairs, you better think again.” Millie struggled against him, but he held tight to her arms.
“I’m not drunk, Millie, and that’s part of what I wanted to say to you. No matter how mad you are at me, I don’t want you thinking any more ill of me than you already do. I wasn’t with those girls and I wasn’t drunk. If you don’t believe me, look at me. Do I look drunk? Sound drunk? Smell drunk?”
Millie yanked one arm free and flicked on the light above the stairs.
In the light shining overhead, Gideon’s green eyes glowed bright and clear. His broad shoulders were straight and he stood tall. And heavens above, he smelled good. Like the fresh stormy fragrance she’d forever connect with him as it blended with his own unique masculine scent.
No. Nothing about him led her to believe he was drunk. Furthermore, she knew if he’d been as inebriated as he seemed an hour ago, he wouldn’t be able to appear completely sober now.
“What are you about?”
“I’m about fed up with you being mad at me to start with,” he said, releasing her other arm as she stomped up the steps to her apartment. At the top, she opened her door and continued on to her sitting room where she removed her hat and gloves.
Gideon watched as she pushed open the windows then left the room. She returned with two glasses of lemonade and handed one to him.
After she settled herself in a rocking chair and toed it into motion, he removed his suit coat and hat, leaving them on a side chair then took a seat on the velvet-covered sofa. Still painfully full of tea, he had no interest in drinking the lemonade and set it on one of the piecrust side tables.
“You wanted to speak to me, so speak,” Millie snapped, sipping her lemonade.
The air blowing in the window set the tendrils of hair that escaped the confines of her hairpins into a tantalizing twirl around her face that Gideon found hard to resist. In addition, the breeze blew her intoxicating floral fragrance straight into his face.
Determined to say his piece, he cleared his throat. “I wasn’t drunk earlier, Millie. I didn’t even have a single drink. However, that information needs to remain confidential.”
“Why?” Extremely curious, she feigned indifference.
“It was the only way to keep Kyle Steel from doing something to the temperance committee members.”
Shocked, Millie stopped the motion of the chair and set down her lemonade. “What do you mean?”
“Kyle thinks if you women had a good scare or got roughed up a bit, you’d drop your temperance activities. Just enough men agreed with him that it became a problem. I challenged him to a contest with the winner deciding how to handle the temperance committee.”
“So you challenged him to a drinking contest?”
Gideon shook his head. “No. I allowed him to choose the contest and that’s what he selected.”
“Why’d you go along with it?”
A grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “Because I knew it wouldn’t take much to outsmart Mr. Steel. And it didn’t. Drake agreed to host the contest at his place. We spent a few hours this morning brewing a gallon of strange-tasting tea that looked like whiskey. While Kyle drank shot after shot of whiskey, I had tea.”
Millie couldn’t help but smile at Gideon’s clever ruse. “And what, exactly, do you have planned for the temperance committee? You’ve already tried working your wiles on me and that ended quite badly.”
“Only because you refuse to see the truth, Millie.” Gideon sighed. “I don’t have anything planned other than to leave you all alone and let you do what you feel is necessary. I’m through playing games.”
“Well, that’s refreshing news, considering what you’ve done.” She sniffed and lifted her chin slightly. Although it had been nearly three weeks since she discovered Gideon’s deception, it still hurt like someone stabbed a knife into her heart every time she thought of it.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I did fall in love with you, Millie Matlock. I fell so hard, I’d almost convinced myself we could be happy together.”
Tears stung her eyes as she stared at him, seeing the sincerity in his gaze and hearing it in his voice.
“If you truly thought that way, then why do you insist on fighting to keep the saloons open? You could walk away and not look back. Financially, I don’t think it will ruin you.”
“No, it won’t financially. I’ve even got a few plans in place should the prohibition bill pass to keep Abel employed, but that was never the reason I kept the saloon open.”
“Then why do you?” Imploringly, Millie leaned forward in her chair. “Why, Gideon?”
“The saloons give men somewhere to go to relax and blow off some steam. Steam that otherwise might erupt on their wives and children. The Second Chance Saloon is open because I hope it might keep even one woman and child safe.”
Stunned, Millie gaped at him. Keeping women and children safe from the effects of alcohol was precisely why she fought s
o hard to close down the saloons. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Gideon. I know first-hand what happens when husbands and fathers fall into the habit of drinking. They come home angry and mean.”
“Not all of them. Not even most of them. Some men just need somewhere to go so they can drink and play cards and brag about themselves without a wife and child underfoot. Sometimes having that outlet is all that keeps them from laying a hand on their wife or beating a child.”
“How would you know?”
“I know because I lived through it, Millie.” Gideon sighed again and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. He leaned back and looked at her for a long moment before he found the words he needed to say. “My mother was sixteen and very beautiful when she fell in love with a clerk in her father’s mercantile. It didn’t take long for the two of them to admit their feelings for one another. My grandfather refused to give them permission to wed, though. He wanted better for his only child. Instead of letting go of their dreams to be together, my mother and Michael McBride made plans to start over somewhere else. However, it seems they jumped the gun on their wedding night. My father was killed in a freak wagon accident before they could run away and marry. When my mother discovered she was expecting, she confessed what had happened to her father. He… he…”
Quietly, Millie waited for Gideon to continue his story.
He cleared his throat. “The very day she told him, he sold her to a man who stopped by the store to purchase some tobacco before he boarded the train. That man was Judas Seymour. He paid twenty dollars for my mother. He bought her a train ticket, married her in a five-minute ceremony, and brought her to Pendleton where he owned several brothels and two saloons. Anytime my mother did something that displeased him, he threatened to put her to work with his other ‘girls.’ At first, he didn’t strike my mother or me, but the more money he made, the less time he spent out at night and the harder he was to live with. By the time I was in high school, he’d beat me at least once a week and my mother nearly as often. She did everything she could to keep him happy, but nothing helped. And I never knew he wasn’t my father until right before my mother died. She’d written it all down in a journal she kept hidden in a trunk. There was even a photo of her with Michael McBride. After my mother passed away, I closed the brothels, sold the seedy saloon, and set to work remaking the Second Chance Saloon into a place men could go to relax, where they’d feel at ease, instead of staying home and tormenting their families.”
Millie (Pendleton Petticoats Book 7) Page 23