He aimed carefully, squeezed the trigger. The little bottle disappeared. Addy rejoiced inwardly. Men cheered and hats flew into the air. Next would be shooting with pistols. Addy had no doubt how it would turn out. Again other men went down in defeat. People began to whisper and mumble. Who was Cole Parker? Story was he had always been good with a rifle, had hunted all his life, so he said. But to be that good with a pistol—he apparently had a natural talent for it. When he took the final shot, the crowd roared, and men began collecting their bets. They surrounded Cole. Grant joined them, yelling he’d take bets on whether or not Cole could draw and shoot and shatter a beer mug once it was dropped before it hit the ground.
Men quickly held up their money, many betting against Cole and Grant. They didn’t believe such a thing could be done. Grant promised Cole a percentage of his winnings, and Cole glanced up at the platform. Addy could feel his eyes on her for a moment before he finally agreed to the challenge.
More bets were made. A volunteer was chosen to hold out the beer mug, and people cleared away from behind Cole, who stepped back, his six-gun in its holster. The air hung with tension and excitement, and the crowd quieted to a surprising level.
“I’ll count to three,” the man with the beer mug told Cole. “Just remember to hit the mug and not me.”
Chuckles rippled through the crowd.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that after what we’ve seen today, Jerry,” one man shouted.
More laughter.
Cole pushed his suit coat behind his holster and concentrated. “Go ahead” he told Jerry. “Let’s get this over with.”
Jerry nodded. He waited a moment, then counted. “One … two …” The moment he said three he let go, and in that same moment Cole Parker’s gun was drawn and fired. The beer mug shattered just before it hit the ground.
The crowd went wild men slapping Cole on the back, some collecting money from others. Some left to continue on with contests between miners, while Grant gathered a fistful of money. He counted it out, three hundred dollars. He gave Cole a hundred. “Good job, my man,” he said slapping Cole on the back.
Cole looked up at Addy again, and she could not help feelings of pride and desire. She would congratulate him later … when they danced.
Twenty-Four
The evening air was filled with the smell of beef roasting over half barrels filled with smoldering wood embers, and with the sound of music. Central’s City Council was determined that their annual picnic would be nothing short of first class, and a small orchestra had been brought up from Denver. There would be no amateur fiddlers here, only the best; ten musicians ground out waltzes and occasionally a peppier tune on violins and a bass fiddle. A huge platform had been built right in the middle of Main Street where people could dance, but around the corner on Eureka and down on Lawrence Street the saloons were open, and those who had been drinking and partying all day were in no mood for waltzes. There could be heard the raucous piano playing and screeching laughter of those too drunk to appreciate the finer music. Amateur fiddlers, banjo players and piano players pounded out ripping tunes that fit the mood of hard-working miners ready to let loose and forget about the dangers they encountered every day in order to line the pockets of Central’s elite with gold.
There Cole continued to accept the wild congratulations of those who had seen him shoot earlier in the day, many of whom had won money on him. Cole tried to refrain from too much drinking, although his first instinct was to down enough whiskey to pass out and forget about that dance with Addy that was promised to him. A little voice told him to stay away from Addy Kane tonight. She’d been with Grant Breckenridge all day, and they looked quite the happy couple. He had never seen Addy look more beautiful, and he couldn’t help wondering if she’d done herself up like that for him, or for Grant.
Stay away from it, he warned himself. Grant Breckenridqe can give her the world on a golden platter. Trouble was, he was also likely to hurt her, cheat on her. Grant would never love her the way Cole could. Was she getting more interested in Grant, or just biding her time, waiting for him like she’d promised? He’d won a lot of money today, and his nest egg was growing fast, but he couldn’t help still believing maybe it was too late for him to go back to the life he’d once known.
He downed a shot of whiskey. The Hard Luck was packed with celebrating miners preparing to go out and stuff themselves on roast beef that was now being sliced and laid out on platters on long tables set up in the streets. He turned and watched the fun for a few minutes. Although Sassy and her girls had kept their promise not to continue the prostitution, tonight they were wild and wicked. Sassy herself danced on a table, lifting her skirts to the whistles and cheers of men. Some of the other girls were being passed around like hot potatoes, laughing and screaming at the kisses and fondling.
It was a madhouse, but Cole could not bring himself to get involved in the wild celebrating. He was too full of indecision and turmoil, too full of thoughts of Addy Kane. If he was going to have that dance, he figured he’d better get himself over to where the milder citizens of the town were waltzing and chatting. The problem was, how could he really talk to Addy there? It would be impossible, and he had to know what she was really feeling, if she still intended to wait for him. He was sick to death of the uncertainty of their relationship, tired of being torn between.
He loved her, damn it! That was what it boiled down to, no matter how much he fought it. He was in love with Addy Kane, and he was going to tell her, flat out ask her to marry him. If he went over there and danced with her, they could secretly make arrangements to meet alone somewhere, although he knew deep in his belly that if he got her alone he’d want to do more than talk. He’d gone too long without Addy in his bed. He wanted her in that bed every night, but that couldn’t happen until they made up their minds they belonged together. For the sake of her job they would have to take this slow, and that meant the sooner he got started, the sooner she could be his wife.
A drunken miner offered him another shot of whiskey, but he refused. He walked out and headed around the corner and up Main Street.
Addy whirled gracefully around the platform with Grant, to the soft music of violins. It was a beautiful night, surprisingly warm and calm for the season. In the distance she could hear the celebrating of Central’s wilder side. Cole was surely there, probably getting drunk, maybe rousting about with some whore. He still hadn’t come for that dance and he probably did not intend to. She wanted, needed to talk to him, needed to know if he still wanted her to wait for him.
She forced herself to pay attention to Grant and not keep looking down the street to see if Cole was coming. She shouldn’t seem anxious to have a dance with a gunman, but now she wanted that dance badly. She felt a secret pride and a rush of desire at the performance Cole had put on today. Everyone talked about it, and not a few women had commented on Cole’s handsome face and physique. Addy had carefully avoided mentioning him at all, had tried to give her full attention to Grant; but it was getting harder and harder to pretend that Cole Parker was nothing more than an acquaintance, that he meant nothing to her.
Her mind was made up. If Cole still wanted her to wait for him, if he wanted to marry her, they would find a way to make it happen. She couldn’t fight these feelings any longer.
“I was afraid there might be trouble today from Ed Foley,” Grant said as the dance finished.
“Thank goodness there was no trouble,” Addy answered. For Cole’s sake, she thought.
Grant led her off the platform and down two steps to a table where beef was being laid out on silver platters. Hired help sliced the meat and served it up on china plates. This particular table was set with fine dishes and silverware, and couples lined up for a feast. Susan and Dresden Howard stood behind Grant and Addy, and Grant turned to talk to Dresden while they waited in line.
“Have you heard any talk in the store about Ed Foley?” he asked. “I’m surprised he was
n’t around today making trouble.”
Dresden stuck his thumbs in the small pockets of his satin vest. “Word is he went to Denver with a few of his cohorts. I guess they’re going to look for work there.”
Grant frowned. “That sounds too good to be true.”
Dresden shrugged. “Well, that’s the way I heard it.”
Grant turned and picked up a plate, holding it out for a slice of beef. “He’s up to something,” he commented to Addy.
“In Denver? What harm could he possibly bring, being that far away?”
“I don’t know, but he’ll be back, mark my word. Maybe he still thinks he can do something legally, the fool.” He picked up a slice of fresh-baked bread. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry,” Addy answered, taking no food. How could she eat when she was so torn inside over Cole?
“Mr. Parker!” she heard Hester exclaim. Addy’s heart took a leap at the words, and she glanced past Grant to see Cole approaching.
“Ah, the man who made me much richer today,” Grant said, following her gaze. “Come share some food with us, Cole.”
Addy noticed several of the women stare at Cole behind their husband’s backs. Even Ethel Brown gave him an appreciative once-over. The handsome, able Cole Parker was building quite a reputation, and it warmed Addy’s heart to see him being accepted by these people, some of whom had already mentioned they thought he’d make a good lawman for Central. She suppressed a smile at the irony of it.
“Came for that dance, did you?” Grant told him.
Cole stepped closer, glancing at Addy. She saw by his eyes that he liked the way she looked tonight, and she in turn thought how wonderfully handsome he looked in the black suit he wore. She had never seen him dressed like this.
“Well, a promise is a promise,” Cole answered Grant.
Grant chuckled. “I didn’t figure you’d pass up the chance to do a few turns with the prettiest lady in Central. We’re taking a little break here to eat. Fill up your plate, Cole. We have tables all set up with chairs and even candelabras for fine dining right out here in the street.” He waited for Cole to get a plate of food, and they walked over to sit down.
“You’re not eating?” Cole asked Addy.
“I’m not really hungry,” she answered. Their gaze held for a moment, and she could see Cole understood her loss of appetite. The night suddenly seemed strangely unreal, and everything seemed to be moving too slowly. Others gathered at the table, praising Cole for his shooting skills, asking how he had come to be so good with guns. “Started hunting with a rifle when I was only ten,” she heard him say. She kept her eyes averted, not wanting Grant to see her gaze at Cole longingly. “… the war …”
“Which side?” someone asked.
There was a moment of hesitation. “Gray,” he answered.
“Oh, dear,” Hester muttered.
“Well, the West is filled with men from both sides,” Lee Brown put in. “The war is behind us now, and whatever side a man fought for, he can’t be blamed for it now. Let’s not get into talking about that God-awful time. Let’s talk about the future, Central’s future!”
Everyone agreed, and someone asked Cole if he would ever consider becoming a deputy under Sheriff Watson.
“I’m not sure yet what I want to do, other than continue to work for Mr. Breckenridge here,” Cole answered wisely. “I’m still a little restless and unsettled.”
He didn’t mention losing his family.
“Yes, don’t be so anxious to take away one of my best men,” Grant told the others.
People laughed, and the small orchestra of violins began another waltz. Addy felt removed from reality as Grant said something about it being time for Cole to have his dance. She felt Cole’s presence, felt him take her arm. “May I?” he asked.
Addy looked up into his handsome face. “Certainly.” She rose and stepped up onto the platform, and Cole put a hand to her waist and took hold of her right hand with his left one. “I’m not real good at this,” he told her.
Their gaze held. “You’ll do fine.”
Cole began turning her to the music, and a few other couples joined them. Addy could feel Grant watching them. She struggled at casual conversation, telling him she’d heard Ed Foley had gone to Denver. Cole said he’d heard the same and was glad to see him go. All the while they talked each could read the questions in the other’s eyes, and both began to feel desperate to figure out a way to talk alone. They hadn’t had the chance since the day he’d stolen a kiss in the alley and asked her to wait for him.
Addy finally took an opportunity to say something without others hearing. “My house,” she said. “Later tonight. Back door.”
Cole felt a rush of desire. She wasn’t inviting him just for a talk. He wanted to grab her close right there, taste her mouth. “I’ll be there.”
“I smell whiskey. No more drinking between now and then.”
Cole grinned. “Promise.”
The dance ended and Cole bowed politely. “Thank you, Mrs. Kane.” He took her arm and led her back to Grant. “And thank you for allowing me the dance.”
“I keep my promises,” Grant answered. He shook hands with Cole, but an odd suspicion was beginning to form in his mind. He couldn’t quite forget the remarks by some of the women after the incident during the march that Cole seemed to know Addy. Tonight, watching them dance together, the way they had looked at each other … Addy again seemed strangely quiet and reserved. It struck him she was always that way when Cole was around.
Cole left them, and Addy took Grant’s arm, smiling for him. “I’m getting really tired. It’s been a long day,” she told him “Could you drive me home now?”
He patted her hand. “Of course.” He called out to his driver, who sat waiting up the street with a carriage, and he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to ask Addy Kane about the abduction, find out the truth.
Grant helped Addy out of the carriage in front of her house, then walked with her up onto the front porch, where a lantern hung to keep the area lit at night. “Addy, I have to talk to you about something. May I come inside for a few minutes?”
Addy glanced at the driver. “I don’t know—”
“Old Henry won’t say anything, and I mean nothing disrespectful. I just want our conversation to be private.”
Addy opened her handbag and fished out her key. “I suppose it’s all right.” What on earth did he want? She couldn’t tell if he was angry about something, or if perhaps he simply wanted a chance to do something she’d rather he didn’t try. Or maybe he was getting even more serious, was going to ask her to marry him. What on earth would she tell him?
They walked into the small main room, and Grant closed the front door while Addy lit another oil lamp. She turned to face him, leaving on her hat and gloves, afraid to let things get too casual. “What is it, Grant?” She wished she could better read his eyes.
“I am afraid I have been made aware of something that needs explaining. I don’t mean to embarrass you, but … well, Mrs. Brown did some further investigating into your background in Unionville.”
Addy felt a prickle of alarm, and her heartbeat quickened. Instantly she thought of Cole. She had to protect him, keep her story straight. “I am not surprised that Ethel Brown tried to dig up something terrible about me. She has never liked me, and I have no idea why.”
Grant snickered. “Look, in the mirror. You’re beautiful, popular, educated. Men want you.” His gaze moved over her with a look Addy had never seen before. It frightened her. “Women like Ethel Brown are jealous of that.” He sighed. “That doesn’t matter at the moment. What matters is what she found out.”
“About the bank robbery?” Addy decided to head him off. If she was open about it right away, it might help him believe she wasn’t hiding anything. His eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Yes. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I wasn’t sure h
ow it would be accepted. Besides, I wanted to just forget about it. Nothing terrible happened to me, as I am sure you and anyone else who knows must be wondering. I did get knocked around a bit, out of pure meanness, but I was never … abused in any other way.” She felt her cheeks growing hot. “I was only taken as a hostage because having me with them gave them something to threaten the law with. Once they got to their hiding place, a small cabin in the deep woods of western Kentucky, they merely asked me to cook for them.” She took a deep breath to stay calm. “Later they … began drinking. They of course began thinking about … other things they could do with me. But one of them, a man named Nick Coleman, had been shot by one of his own gang members during the robbery and left behind in town. Somehow he escaped and managed to make it to the cabin just in time. Although wounded himself, he barged in just in time and stopped the leader of the gang, Jack Slater, from … taking advantage of me. There was a shootout, and although Slater was wounded he managed to shoot Nick Coleman dead. He had the other two men with him bury Mr. Coleman, and I tended Slater’s wounds.”
She finally began removing her gloves, telling herself she must appear confident and casual. He had to believe her story, and at least it was true she had not been raped. If Grant and the others thought that, they might take away her teaching job. Ugly rumors would be spread. “After the shooting incident and Slater being wounded, the excitement was gone. They left me alone after that. They were afraid Coleman had been followed by the law, since he was already wounded and had arrived on a stolen horse. They needed to get themselves into Indian Territory, where it’s easy for outlaws to hide, I’m told. They decided that having me along would only slow them down. Besides that, they hoped that if they let me go, sent me back to town with the stolen horse, maybe the law would give up the chase. So that’s what they did. They took me as far as they could without being caught themselves, then rode out for Indian Territory. I found my way back to Unionville, shaken and bruised but not … not raped.” She faced Grant boldly. “I have no way of proving any of it. You will simply have to take my word. Certainly none of it was my fault, but if you and the council choose not to believe me—”
Until Tomorrow Page 33