by Gem Sivad
“Brother McCallister, forgive without punishing, trust without wavering, give without sparing. Turn loose this humble soul and let him redeem himself on his knees…” He paused, licked his lips and looked pointedly at Deacon’s groin.
“I thought you were partial to women, not men.” Deacon ignored the offer and snipped the end from a cigar, preparing to light it.
“Figured it was worth a try since you spent the night with Lyd’s butler.” Ned shrugged. Seeing that his plan to seduce Deacon had failed, Ned nonchalantly continued his original story.
“In Dodge, I had to quit the part of Reverend Landau earlier than I was supposed to because of him.” Ned grimaced. “I’d seen that same big, rangy kid with a wolf by his side, lurking around at the Dodge stockyards when I was playing Syms, the banker buying cattle.”
Deacon kept his mouth shut, swallowing his astonishment at this revelation. Beauregard had figured out Ned’s pattern, recognized the counterfeiter in spite of his disguises and set up a trap to catch him. Good God, the Pinkertons and Texas Rangers with all of their resources combined were chasing after three nonexistent men.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Deacon muttered.
Ned Tolliver, if that was his real name, slid in and out of characters so easily he could have been acting yet again. He’d used his talent, changing identities as he spread fake money in the Texas towns he visited.
Deacon struck a lucifer and lit his cigar, thoroughly enjoying the taste as he inhaled deeply. The drag of depression that thoughts of his late wife and marriage had raised dissipated as he considered what he’d just learned.
Studying the burning tip of his cigar, Deacon focused on the convoluted story Ned was telling. Lydia was right. Beauregard was smart. He was also privy to information Deacon wanted. So before Lydia hired the kid and sent him chasing after more counterfeiters, Deacon wanted his own answers.
As Calvin the butler, the kid had rerouted Lydia’s someone special to another room. That being certain, it was logical to assume Beauregard had substituted the mystery woman. Why he’d done that was yet to be established, but Deacon intended to find out.
It was a toss-up in his mind which he’d enjoy more—shaking the kid until Beau gave up the name of Deacon’s Pleasure Dome bed companion or delivering the news to Beauregard that he wasn’t collecting the fifteen-hundred-dollar reward money for Ned until he answered Deacon’s questions.
Until recently, Deacon had made it a practice to mind his own business and keep to himself. For years, he’d had no interest in anything other than the hunt—and that was more about avoiding boredom than delivering justice. Then the Tennessee miscreant had come to Texas, bringing entertainment to Deacon’s lackluster life. With both Sam and Charlie married and retired from bounty hunting, Deacon had probably focused more on the kid than he should have.
There’d been plenty of times in the last year Deacon’s disagreements with Beauregard had escalated into yelling matches in front of law offices. If there was one person who could bring him roaring to life in a moment, it was the Tennessee Whip.
That was the nickname the outlaws had nailed onto the kid and it fit him well. But Deacon preferred his own nickname for the pest—Trouble.
He didn’t doubt for a moment that he could coerce the kid into helping him find the woman. The brat was a greedy fool who took unthinkable risks to collect bounty rewards far smaller than the current prize of fifteen hundred dollars.
On the one hand the kid’s daredevil attitude had saved Deacon’s life. Beau had taken out an outlaw stronghold with the help of a woman. On the other hand, the jackass was barely old enough to be out of the schoolroom, let alone traipsing around the countryside hunting murderers and risking his life.
As usual the thought of Beauregard’s audacity made him grit his teeth. He bit off the end of the cigar before he knew what he was doing.
God Almighty, the kid dressed up like a butler and fooled Lydia and everyone else. Deacon wondered how long the young bounty hunter had been employed and how long he’d maintained his disguise.
Obviously Beauregard had fooled Deacon too. His only memory of the butler was of the good quality suit he’d been wearing.
“Since it’s not the butler but a woman you’re mooning over, as soon as I get free, I’ll show her a good time.” Ned interrupted Deacon’s thoughts with an insult. Evidently, he thought another attempt at rousing Deacon’s temper was in order. “It shouldn’t be that hard to steal her from you.”
“Then I’ll have to make certain you don’t get loose, Ned.” Deacon ignored Lydia’s brother, thinking about the woman instead. He’d not had time to bathe before he left this morning and her scent clung to him, tantalizing him with memories of what they’d done.
He’d find the woman from the night before and make things right with her. He didn’t know what that entailed. She’d been innocent, shy, bold and lusty all at the same time. His cock stirred, reminding him that it wasn’t beneficence driving his pursuit.
Just as much as he wanted to find her, he anticipated the immediate pleasure he’d get from sparring with Beauregard when he arrived in Eclipse. Deacon didn’t know what came next but for the first time in years he anticipated the future.
Before they arrived at Eclipse, Deacon turned on the path leading to the MC3. Ned wasn’t as happy to be revisiting the McCallister ranch as he’d implied.
“I thought you were taking me to the Eclipse jail,” he protested.
“Not this trip,” Deacon replied. “There’s a matter of a thousand dollars and two appaloosa horses to be resolved. I think you need to visit with my brother Sam and his partner Dan Hawks for a while.”
Chapter Four
Miri traveled fast riding Possum’s easy trot. The rocking motion made her breasts sway and rub against her clothes. She’d been in a hurry this morning and even had she found time to bind her bosom when she’d pulled on her butler clothes, she wouldn’t have because her right nipple was sore—abraded where Deacon had suckled her, turning her into a writhing ball of frenzy.
She flushed, automatically squeezing her thighs together as she remembered the feel of lips and teeth on the tender nub. Possum took her reaction as a signal to speed up and the faster trot forced Miri to tighten her knees and settle her butt deeper in the saddle to keep from bouncing.
The sensitive area between her legs chafed against her clothes and Possum’s faster pace slapped the saddle against Miri’s private parts, intensifying the burning sensation in her sex. None of her female areas seemed quite right this morning.
“Women have been coupling with men since the beginning of time. I will survive,” she murmured out loud. It seemed odd to her the way she could still feel the imprint where Deacon’s body had covered hers.
She recalled the shuddering climaxes she’d experienced as Deacon thrust in and out of her. A blush sizzled through her, scalding her cheeks and rolling upward until even the roots of her hair seemed coated in fire.
“God Almighty,” she whispered. No wonder people like to fornicate. She’d wanted to know about such things, but now she wasn’t sure what to do with her knowledge. Her thoughts about Deacon McCallister had subtly changed over the time she’d known him.
From the start she’d spied on him when he didn’t know it. He was so darn serious she couldn’t resist deviling him when she got the chance. Underneath his somber presence she’d discovered a sharp mind and soft heart. The preacher man’s a firecracker for sure but he means well when he’s bein’ bossy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
In late August, she’d been in Sundown coming out of the sheriff’s office when Deacon had arrived in a rage. Instead of dismounting and going in like any normal person would, he’d ridden his horse up on the boarded walk and blocked her path.
“Hold it right there, Trouble.” He’d been a mite perturbed that she’d swooped in and captured one of his wanteds after he’d tracked the man.
The name he called her made her laugh inside. This time he’d be
en riled more than usual. She wasn’t one for backing down, so she’d opened her side of the conversation with a taunt. “Hope yer huntin’ went well, McCallister. Mine sure did.”
“Get the hell off the sidewalk, McCallister.” The sheriff had come out of his office to see what the fuss was.
“When I’m ready.” Deacon had been snarling mad and turned his wrath on the Sundown sheriff. Miri had sneaked a glance at Deacon’s face while he was looking at the lawman. She’d seen a vein thumping in his forehead hard enough to draw her attention.
“You might want to drink a cup of green tea with some honey in it, Deacon. It’s good for calming the nerves.” She’d not expected her suggestion to be greeted with thanks but it served its purpose. He’d turned away from the sheriff before the other man shot him, and redirected his anger at the true target—her.
“You swooped in and nabbed Bennett Sawyer after we tracked him to that cabin.”
“Try to keep it down, you two.” Like any man of good sense, the sheriff hadn’t really wanted to quarrel with Deacon. Besides his quick temper, the bounty hunter was known for his fast draw. After delivering his request, the lawman retreated into his office and shut his door.
Ketchum had joined the fray, growling at Deacon’s horse and, not being as well-trained or well-mannered as Possum, it started dancing all over the sidewalk, making it hard for Deacon to continue his rant. The distraction had encouraged her to be bold. She’d dropped her voice to its lowest register and thickened her drawl into her best twang. She might have been a little too smug when she’d mocked him.
“He was easy pickins, Deacon. Thanks.” She’d been chortling at her accomplishment, ready to brag about how she’d caught Sawyer.
“Bennett Sawyer was a cold-blooded murderer. Are you stupid? You don’t need to be facing killers on your own.”
“Heck, it weren’t nothin’ catchin’ him. He saw you fellers ridin’ on and was all set to do a flit and hide again. Good thing I was there to fetch him back to the sheriff.”
She’d bragged about the way she’d caught Bennett using the whip, disarmed and cuffed him and hoisted him over a horse while Ketchum stood guard.
“Now that was the hard part,” she’d chuckled, admitting the truth. “Sawyer wasn’t so tall, but he was a heavy ’un.”
“Do. Not. Follow. Us.”
For the sake of the thumping vein in his head she’d edged off the sidewalk and started on her way.
“You heard me, Beauregard. You won’t get any more warnings,” he’d yelled after her.
And she couldn’t keep her lip buttoned. “Well, as to that,” she’d answered, “our trails might cross again sometime. I’d count on it, ’twas it me.”
She’d almost reached the hitching post and Possum when he brought his horse alongside her again. Finally she’d fumbled a cigarette and lit it, trying to look unconcerned. Orneriness had taken over and she’d puffed the smoke at him. It was a mistake.
“You insolent pup, I’ve a mind to—” He’d been fit to be tied. Ketchum mounted a rescue, nipping at his mount’s heels, sending Deacon’s horse dancing sideways. She’d taken it as a sign it was time to skedaddle and climbed on Possum.
“Stay out of my way in the future, brat,” he’d called after her. “You’re not old enough to shoot but by damn you’re not too old for me to turn over my knee and fan your ass.”
“Think you can do it, just give it a try.” His threat to wallop her fanny had made her body clench and not from fear. She’d ridden away laughing at Deacon and thrown a parting taunt at him over her shoulder. “Until that time I reckon we’ll stay in touch.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Well, we’ve sure been in touch. The thought of Deacon’s wrath if he ever found out she’d been fooling him all along wiped the smile right off her face. Lord knows she’d spent enough time dodging his scrutiny whenever he’d gotten too close.
Might be time for me to find another place to hunt. But that thought depressed her spirits. She liked Eclipse. Maybe after this trip to deposit her promissory note, she’d stay clear of Eclipse for a spell. She frowned. She wasn’t sure how long it took for a man to forget about his coupling experience but didn’t think it would be more than a week or two.
Probably more like a heartbeat or two. She snorted. As for her, she didn’t foresee a time when she wouldn’t get warm just thinking about Deacon’s body.
Under his beard and dirty clothes he’s a handsome devil. And he’d been nice. He’d been sweet to her when it had hurt there at the start. He’d been harder than a steel rod and hotter than a poker but if she’d said “Get off”, Miri was certain he’d have climbed down.
It didn’t do for her to ponder too long about it because thoughts of Deacon left her flushed and flustered. She had business to conduct before she could daydream.
“I’ve got a note to cash in for fifteen hundred dollars. I knew I could catch that counterfeiter. I just wish I’d been able to find the printing plates too.”
Eclipse was a day’s ride from Fort Worth so Miri had plenty of time to think about her Hell’s Half Acre experience. She tried not to get too proud, but heck, anybody could see that tracking, trailing, analyzing and outthinking the wanted counterfeiter was no small thing. I found Jackson when plenty of others, even government agents, weren’t able.
Though she traveled at a fast clip, she regularly stopped to give Possum a breather. As she and Ketchum walked her gelding, she delivered a running analysis of her experience with Deacon McCallister.
“I ’spect when Deacon gets up this morning he’ll be glad I took myself off to other places.” She delivered this pithy opinion in her thick Tennessee twang.
“Doubtful,” she answered herself in Calvin’s voice, enunciating each word thoughtfully. “He said he was taking you out of a den of iniquity today.” She carried on her two-sided conversation, pausing every once in a while to get her wolf’s opinion.
“What do you think about Deacon, Ketchum? Will he be glad we left or inconsolable that he doesn’t get to save this soiled dove today?” Ketchum sat down, his tongue lolling out as he stared at her and grinned.
“Up close he’s better looking than even I thought.” As she talked to her pet, her voice fell into a soft Southern cadence without the harsh overlay she added when she played Beau.
“There’s no sense in worrying about it. It’s done and if I could undo it I wouldn’t.” She grinned wryly at Ketchum and fell back into Beau’s voice. “He’s mighty fine. His arm muscles make mine look darn right puny.”
Her grin melted into a dreamy-eyed smile and her voice changed again when she whispered, “His hair, once I got all the dust and dirt out of it, was a real pretty reddish brown. His beard was darker, but oh my, he’s handsome when he shaves it off.”
When she let herself think about the night with him, her stomach clenched and hot waves of anxiety made her sweat, though the day itself was cool. She wasn’t fool enough to think Deacon McCallister was a man to trifle with. But men didn’t care about the women they hired for pleasure and she figured he wouldn’t be surprised if the prostitute was gone when he woke.
“Less embarrassing that way,” Miri said to Ketchum.
Midmorning, when Miri’s stomach began to rumble, she complained out loud. “Most of the Pleasure Dome all-nighters rise late and have breakfast sent to the room.” She squinted at the slant of the sun. “I imagine Deacon is getting up about now.” She sighed. “Wish I was eating the chef’s ham omelet instead of gnawing on a cold biscuit.”
She remounted, dug two of the same from her saddlebag and tossed one to Ketchum, then made a face at him. “As soon as we cash in that promissory note, we’ll treat ourselves.” I’ll buy myself a big chunk of honeycomb to eat during the holidays.
* * * * *
It was already evening when Miri rode into Eclipse. She stopped at the livery stable and rented a stall for Possum. After she’d groomed, grained and watered her gelding she headed for the sheriff’s office, eager to
tell Sheriff Potter about catching Ned Jackson. The bank was closed and it would be ten in the morning before she could deposit her note. Hiram was in his office and welcomed her inside, but it didn’t take much of a conversation with him to ruin her day.
“Fella at the bank brought this over. He figured I’d see you before you made a trip over there.” The sheriff delivered the bad news in the form of a telegram from the Fort Worth sheriff. “Payment to Beauregard voided. Prisoner released.”
Miri felt ill. She’d devoted all summer to the hunt, passing on a lot of easier quarry for the bigger prize Jackson offered. Worse yet, she’d invested funds in the butler’s disguise. Instead of being flush with money at year’s end, she was nearly broke with no way to recoup her loss other than immediately hitting the trail again.
“Let me take a look at what’s in your stack of posters, Sheriff Potter.” She hid her distress, playing it off as just another one of the ups and downs of bounty hunting.
But he steered her to a chair and handed her a cup of coffee. She wanted to howl in disbelief. She pulled out the promissory note and read it again. Everything had been fine up to the time she’d left.
There had been no doubt in her mind that she’d nabbed the right man. Her prisoner was the counterfeiter. Now he was loose again. She sighed and set the cup down.
Hiram picked it up and put it back in her hand. “One night won’t make a difference,” he told her. It would and they both knew it. Jackson would be long gone and wearing a new identity when he surfaced again.
“I guess I have some repairs I could do.” She had a crumpled white shirt with a button missing. “Might you have some thread and a needle?”
Hiram seemed glad she was staying and hustled to get the sewing tools. “I’ve only got this white spool of thread,” he apologized.
“Guess my luck is improving already because that’s just what I need.” She smiled gamely, glad he didn’t ask what had happened to the button.
“The jail’s empty and no one’s using the cots. Stay here tonight if you want. Unless someone has a prisoner to deliver, and that’s not likely, you should be undisturbed until morning. If someone wants me, I’ll be at the hotel.”