Ty slowly scanned the area. The Barton was popular with cattlemen, from men with modest ranches on up to the largest in the area. A good number of them were lounging in the lobby, and every last one of them was drooling. He took a step closer. “Most of the men staying here will treat you with respect, but there are some who might not.”
“Which ones?”
“The one over there in the corner, and the big man leaning against the door to the hotel saloon.”
She glanced surreptitiously toward both men. “Any others?”
“They aren’t here right now, but I can think of a couple who might get a little pushy.” The man leaning against the doorway straightened and started walking slowly toward them. “I need to see you to your room now.”
She glanced toward the saloon and muttered something he didn’t quite catch about men in general. Spinning on her heel, she marched to the hotel desk with Ty right behind her. “My key, please, Mr. Jones.”
The clerk complied, surprising Ty by the way he shielded the row of keys with his body, making it difficult for anyone to see precisely which one he removed.
Camille thanked the clerk and headed for the wide staircase, barely glancing at Ty when he fell in beside her. When they reached the second floor and turned down the empty hall, she glared at him. “Now they’ll think I’m under your protection. That’s what you really wanted, isn’t it?”
Ty frowned at the wording of her question, which implied that he wanted the others to think she was his mistress. “If they believe I’m interested in you, they’re less likely to bother you.”
She stopped at the door to her room and faced him, gripping the key tightly. “What do you want, Mr. McKinnon?”
“To be your friend.”
“A friend?” Her tone indicated she didn’t believe him.
“Yes.” He wasn’t sure if there could be anything else between them, but he didn’t want to simply walk away from her. He wasn’t sure he could.
Her expression turned icy. “I won’t be any man’s mistress. Not even yours.”
Did that mean she was attracted to him? “I wouldn’t ask you to be. As you said earlier, I’m a God-fearing man. But even more, I love the Lord and try my best to please Him by doing what’s right. Sometimes things are a mite muddled, and I don’t always succeed. But on this, the answer is clear. Having a mistress is a sin, and I’m not about to intentionally defy God by doing it. I like you, Miss Dupree. I want to keep you safe and hope to get better acquainted. It’s as simple as that.” Liar. The feelings she stirred in him weren’t simple at all.
“That’s not a good idea. I’m a professional gambler. I spend my time in saloons with men.” A hint of pink touched her cheeks. “Only playing cards, but most so-called respectable people won’t give me the time of day.”
“Out here, even some of the most respected men enjoy their gambling. You’ll likely find that they’ll be as friendly to you on the street as they are at the table.
“Now the women are another matter. I can see why they would be jealous and resent every minute their men spend in your company. But they have other reasons to disapprove of gambling. The same ones I have. I’ve seen too many innocent people hurt when men lose money that should have gone to care for their families.”
She looked away. “Then they had no business playing in the first place.”
“Of course not, but some people can’t help it.”
“And you think I prey on them?” She met his gaze, defiance, anger and a touch of guilt in her frown.
Ty took a moment to answer, giving serious thought to the question. “I suppose I do.”
“Then why on earth do you want anything to do with me?”
Ty shrugged, smiling wryly. “I haven’t quite pegged that yet. Reckon that’s why I want to get to know you, so I can figure it out.” He felt a subtle prompting, one he knew came from the Lord. “I think you’re a good, kind-hearted woman.” He took a deep breath, wondering if he was sticking his foot in his mouth. “And that maybe you’d like a different life.”
“A respectable one?” she asked irritably.
“One that gives you peace.”
She blinked in surprise and quickly looked away. “Gambling is the only thing I know how to do.”
“You could work at my store.”
“And make less in a month than I do in one night?” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “No thanks.”
“If that’s the case, you probably don’t even have to work,” said Ty with a grin. “Though, come to think of it, the newspaper publisher is looking for a partner. Mr. Hill has some health problems and is going to close up shop if he can’t find someone to help him.”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a newspaper.”
“I expect he’d be willing to teach you. He has a good crew, so you wouldn’t have to worry about setting type or the actual printing of the paper. Mainly, he’s looking for someone to handle the business end of things such as bookkeeping and selling ads.”
“Can a person make a living with a newspaper?”
“He has, though he’s not rich by any means. Profits would probably increase about tenfold if you were the one talking to the businessmen. They’d buy an ad every week just to have you drop by. And if you collect the money, they’ll be more likely to pay, too.”
“They don’t pay now?”
“Some have shamefully taken advantage of him. When his heart started acting up, he quit trying to get his money. Just refuses to do any more advertising for them.” He noted a spark of interest in her eyes.
“What about writing articles? Would he expect that?”
“No, but if you’re interested, he’d probably let you give it a try.”
“I’ll think about it. But I doubt if the good people of Willow Grove would patronize the paper once word gets out that I’m working at the White Buffalo.”
“Then don’t go to work there.”
She shook her head. “I’ve already promised Nate that I would. He’s depending on me to revive his business.”
Ty laughed, leaning one hand on the wall beside her. “Miss Dupree, your old friend has been pulling the wool over your eyes. The White Buffalo is one of the most popular waterin’ holes in town, catering mainly to the wealthiest ranchers.” He paused, considering who her customers would be. “Maybe Nate has something else in mind.”
“What?”
“A little matchmaking.” Ty didn’t like that idea one bit. He could think of any number of single men who were as well off as he was, and several who had a lot more money. At least half of them wouldn’t think twice about asking Camille to marry them, probably the minute they laid eyes on her.
She considered it, then nodded slowly. “It wouldn’t surprise me. But it won’t do any good. I’ve never found men to be very trustworthy.”
“Then I’ll have to prove that all men don’t come from the same mold.” With a lot of help from you, Lord. “And that this is a place where people can start over, leave their past behind them. If you go to the box supper with me tonight, you’ll meet some folks who likely have done just that.”
Uncertainty flickered across her face. “I’ve never been to a box supper.”
“It’s the major event around here this month.” Since her daddy was a gambling man, Ty doubted that she’d had a social life typical of the young ladies in Willow Grove. “I’ll provide the supper if you’ll go with me, though you may take some ribbin’ about how well decorated it is. At least then, I’ll know it’s yours and to bid on it.”
Her expression softened, wistfulness filling her eyes before she looked away. “A hatbox wrapped in shimmering pink silk, tied with green ribbon. And a white camellia tucked beneath the bow.”
“I have the silk and the ribbon.” Ty gently nudged her chin upward with his knuckle until she met his gaze. “But I’m fresh out of camellias.”
She laughed quietly as he lowered his hand. “So is everyone else this time of year. You’re a very per
suasive man, Mr. McKinnon. No wonder you’re the mayor.”
“Acting mayor,” he said with a grin. “Until April first. So will you go with me?”
She hesitated for a heartbeat. “Yes. What do I wear? I doubt my normal evening attire would be appropriate,” she said dryly.
His imagination tormented him again with the thought of the kind of dress she probably wore to work in the saloon. “You’d raise a fortune for the school, but the ladies would tar and feather you.” He lightly touched the sleeve of her golden-brown day dress. “This would be fine, or maybe something a little fancier. Something like you’d wear to church.”
“The last time I went to church I had corkscrew curls and wore a pink taffeta dress over flounced pantaloons.”
Ty chuckled at her mischievous smile, even as he felt a little twist in his heart at the description of a little girl dressed in her Sunday best. “Trying to start a new fashion?”
“Think it will catch on?”
“Probably not.” He pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time. “I need to get to the store. I’ll come by for you a few minutes after six.”
Suddenly, Ty realized what he had just done. Camille would be the first woman he had escorted anywhere since Amanda died. An odd mixture of sadness and anticipation tightened his throat.
She took a deep breath. “I’ll be ready.”
Stepping back, he merely nodded and headed down the hall.
But was he?
Chapter Three
Camille waited by the window, watching McKinnon cross the street. When he disappeared into his store, she left her room, locking the door behind her. She tucked the key into her purse and went down the back stairs, slipping out the door into the empty alley. After walking along the alley for a couple of blocks, she turned up Pine Street toward Nate and Bonnie’s house. Though she had eaten breakfast with her friend, she was anxious to talk to her about the newspaper.
Bonnie was sweeping off the front porch when she arrived. “That didn’t take long. Of course, there isn’t a lot to see in Willow Grove.”
“I haven’t looked around much. Nate didn’t think I should go about by myself after some rowdy cowboys rode in trying to shoot up the town.” Camille walked up the steps, shaking her head. “As if I haven’t dealt with obnoxious men all my life.”
“Still carry that Derringer in your purse?”
Camille grinned, opened the screen door and went into the parlor. “Yes, though I had to get a new purse. Shot a hole in the last one.”
“You didn’t!” Bonnie followed her inside, carrying the broom into the kitchen, setting it beside the back door. “Did you shoot someone?”
“No, I missed on purpose. But it scared him off.” She laid her purse on the kitchen table and sat down. “That’s the only time I’ve ever had to pull the trigger. I wouldn’t have missed with the second shot.”
“I doubt if you’ll ever need it here. Despite what Nate said, most of the men are polite. And if one of them isn’t, half a dozen others will come to your rescue quicker than a hot iron can scorch a cotton dress. Do you want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I had some lemonade with Nate.”
Bonnie poured herself a cup of coffee and joined her at the table. “I’m surprised Nate was concerned about it. He’s never told me not to go downtown on Saturday. Of course, I’m not a young beauty like you.”
“Don’t give me that. You’re only ten years older than me and still beautiful. Certainly not a prune-faced matron.”
“Well, I hope not.” Bonnie laughed and stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “Though I suppose we have a few in town.”
“At least three according to Ty McKinnon. He agreed with Nate that I needed an escort, insisted on it, in fact. When I pointed out the ladies on the street, that’s what he called them.”
“Ty McKinnon?” Bonnie perked up. “Was he in the saloon?”
“He stormed in when he saw me through the window.” She traced a flower on the tablecloth with her fingertip. “I’m sure he thought I was going to do something other than play cards.”
“Nate doesn’t have any cubicles in the back or an upstairs for lewd women, and Ty knows it. I can’t believe he jumped to that conclusion.”
“He looked chagrined when he realized I was only a gambler. Though he didn’t like that much, either.”
Speculation gleamed in her friend’s eyes. “It sounds to me as if our handsome mayor has taken a liking to you. Did he insist on being your escort?”
“Yes. Though I refused the tour of the town that he offered. I only let him walk me back to the hotel, where he also insisted on going to the door of my room. No doubt that caused all sorts of speculation with the gentlemen downstairs. But I couldn’t dissuade him. He’s a very stubborn man,” she said irritably.
“And you’re attracted to him.”
“I shouldn’t be. He says he wants to be my friend, and I expect he would be a good one. But when he held me, I felt as if I’d been standing too close to a lightning rod in a thunderstorm.”
“Wait a minute. When he held you? I think you left out a big part of your story.”
“When the cowboys started shooting at the store signs, McKinnon pushed me down beside the bar and knelt down, too, sheltering me. I guess it was natural for him to put his arms around me.” She shook her head ruefully. “And just as natural for me duck my head against his chest and hide behind him like some ninny.”
Bonnie sighed. “How romantic.”
Camille shook her head. “I didn’t come here for romance.”
“But that’s exactly what you need. Surely you don’t want to spend the rest of your life playing cards in smoke-filled saloons with drunken men.”
“They don’t play as well when they’re drunk. It’s easier to win.”
Her friend ignored her feeble attempt at humor. “Angel, you’re young, beautiful and the most ladylike lady I’ve ever known. You don’t belong in a saloon, but in a home with a family of your own.”
Pushing back her chair, Camille strolled to the back screen door and gazed out at the remnants of the vegetable garden. Given her friend’s green thumb, she had no doubt that the garden once had been beautiful and thriving. Now the few remaining plants were old and withered, soon to be uprooted and replaced with new ones in the spring.
How long would she still draw men to her gaming table? Another year? Five? Perhaps ten if she was lucky. Suddenly, the thought of another ten years at her profession filled her with dread and gloom. Be honest with yourself, she chided, silently acknowledging that she had no interest in spending one more evening gambling. The fever had never taken hold of her as it had her father. She could walk away and never miss it.
Camille looked back at her friend. “If I don’t belong in a smoke-filled saloon, why did you and Nate persuade me to come to West Texas? Were you hoping to play matchmaker?”
“Yes.” Bonnie pushed back from the table, walking across the room to join her.
“McKinnon thought so.”
“I’m sure he also knew that you’d have a handful of marriage proposals the first night. Good, hardworking ranchers, many of them quite wealthy, and each one longing for a woman to warm his heart and home.”
“A man so desperate that he would take someone like me for a mate?” Camille couldn’t believe it, not after all the blatant propositions or subtle innuendos that had been thrown her way for years. “A plaything, perhaps, but not a wife.”
“You forget that we have a major shortage of women. Generally, the men here are different than what you’re used to. As long as a person is honest with current dealings, they don’t ask questions about who you are or where you’ve been. No doubt there are plenty of folks here who left a distasteful past.”
“McKinnon said the same thing.” Camille expected that held true for men, but she doubted people had the same standards about women.
“I doubt there is much in his past he’d worry about. Even so, many of the men, such as Ty
and his brother, started with nothing and have built empires.”
Amused, Camille asked dryly, “McKinnon has an empire?”
“Well, I suppose that’s an exaggeration but close to it.” Bonnie slipped her arm around Camille’s waist, giving her a loving hug. “I know you well enough to figure you have a nice tidy nest egg put away and that you don’t need to worry about making a living for a while.”
“A long while. I’ve made some good investments. But I’d go crazy with nothing to do.”
“Believe me, dear, a husband and a home will give you plenty to do.”
“I know you mean well.” Camille’s sigh was filled with regret. “But you forget that I loved a man once, and it only brought me heartache. Even if I find someone I can trust—and that is very doubtful—he won’t want me once he learns about Anthony.”
“Don’t tell him.”
“It wouldn’t take him long to figure it out on our wedding night.” She had only been with one man, but that had been enough for people to call her a harlot. And, she thought sadly, she supposed she had been, even though she’d been barely nineteen, suddenly left alone in the world, and terrified by it.
“By then it would be too late. You’d already be married.”
Camille stared at her. “You honestly think I should do that?”
Bonnie shrugged. “Most men sow wild oats before they get married. They shouldn’t be so judgmental toward a woman who’s done the same.”
“I’m not sure living with a man for six months would be considered wild oats.”
“At least you showed commitment.” Bonnie grinned and pushed open the back door. “Let’s go sit out here on the porch.” She took one rocking chair, and Camille took the other. “I love living here where there aren’t so many people. It’s building up, and I expect before long I won’t have a clear view of the hills, so I enjoy them whenever I can. Even then, I don’t think Willow Grove will ever become a big city.”
“But it’s big enough for a newspaper?”
Bonnie glanced at her with a puzzled expression. “Yes, and it’s a good one, too, but I hear Mr. Hill is going to shut it down due to his health.”
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