“Watch it, there, Sikes,” Emmett said. “Only one angel per customer. This one’s mine.”
“Speaking of angelicas,” Juanito said as he set his paint can on an old newspaper just inside the door, “Where is Geneve?”
“Over at the hardware store, looking at wallpaper samples,” Sikes said. “She’s getting so enthusiastic about this saloon, you’d think it was her own.”
Li sat at one of the tables, and Emmett took up a place leaning against the wall nearby.
“Well, gents,” he said. “Now that you’ve slept on it, what do you think about Jack VanDorn’s news from El Paso?”
The question was sufficient to stop Sikes’s sanding midstroke. “It’s plain enough—Franklin Taft is a liar. He can’t stand the notion that we forced him to give up Geneve. I’ll not return to El Paso on his trumped-up charges.”
“The marshal over there told VanDorn that both Taft and his lookout man had in fact been bruised and bloodied. You think they’d do that to themselves just so they could bring an accusation against us?” Emmett’s gaze shifted to Juanito. His brother-in-law was wiping his hands with an old rag.
“We know we didn’t do it,” Juanito said. “Somebody in El Paso got a good look at us, maybe saw we were having a bit of a run-in with Señor Taft, decided it would be easy to pin their own dirty work on us.”
“How many people got a good look at us and knew we kicked up a bit of a row down at the Wild Hog?” Emmett asked.
“Only a handful inside the saloon.”
“And not too many out in the street.” He recalled walking Geneve, nothing on but her underwear, from the saloon over to the hotel.
Sikes strode over from the bar. “Be that as it may…” He pulled out a chair, sat, and rubbed his leg where he’d taken the bullet back up in Nevada. “You’d be hard pressed to convince me that anybody other than Taft himself is behind all this. We’re being set up.”
Emmett stood behind Li and rested his hands on the back of her chair. “As you all know, our friend VanDorn is in a pickle. He doesn’t wanna arrest us and haul us back to El Paso for a trial, but when Taft and his crew demanded that the law over there round up a posse and set out after us, the marshal told ’em straight out that Texas Ranger Jack VanDorn would handle things.”
“Can’t VanDorn simply go back and tell the lot that we somehow threw him off our trail and that he can’t find us?” Sikes asked.
Juanito shook his head. “Texas Rangers don’t quit that easy.”
“Besides,” Emmett said, “even if VanDorn told ’em that, the charges wouldn’t just disappear. And Taft might not quit that easy either. If it’s revenge he’s after, he might just hire himself a vigilante or two to do what the marshal or VanDorn won’t.”
Emmett stepped from behind Li. She looked up at him.
“No,” he said, “I’m afraid we won’t make this go away by simply ignoring it.”
“What do you propose, then?” Sikes said.
Emmett looked down at his new bride. “Juanito and I need to go back to El Paso with VanDorn…and help him find out who really jumped Taft and took the money.”
“Don’t you think you and I should talk about this first?” Li said.
He nodded. “We’ll talk.”
“When?”
“Soon as we’re done here, if you like.”
She folded her arms. “So you, Juanito, and Sikes are going to make a decision, then we’re going to talk, and you’re going to tell me how things are going to be?”
Emmett glanced at his friends.
Juanito looked away.
Sikes scratched the back of his head.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Emmett said.
“Then how would you put it?” Li asked.
Emmett tried to soften his expression then looked Li in the eyes. “Please trust me.”
He didn’t like that her face revealed more hurt than anger.
“Please,” he repeated.
After a long, silent moment, she gave a subtle nod.
Still gazing at Li, Emmett said, “Sikes, you’ve got that gimpy leg. And Geneve needs you here. We can’t very well take her back to the situation she just escaped.”
The British Army veteran said nothing.
“Juanito, you and me always ride together, don’t we?” Emmett said.
“Are you asking me to retrieve my Texas Ranger badge?”
Emmett shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I oughta leave mine here, too.”
“Not smart, hermano.”
“No, it’s not. So we pack badges, but when we go, we travel on the cuidado. We won’t be ourselves again until we can prove that somebody else took that money.”
“Sounds like a grand adventure.”
“‘Grand adventure.’” Emmett couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is that Spanish for ‘deadly game’?”
“Exactly,” Juanito said.
Sikes drummed on the tabletop. “And what if, in the meantime, somebody rides into San Antonio looking for Granville Sikes and his notorious band of outlaws?”
Before Emmett could answer, Juanito cut in. “You and Geneve stay with my family—out of sight. We’ll have plenty of time to finish the saloon once we clear this up.”
Emmett forced a grin. “Maybe give you some time to help Geneve decide to marry you after all.”
Even Li smiled at that.
“I’m not going to hole up for weeks on end until you three figure out how to clear our names,” Sikes said. “I’ve got a business to open.”
“Well, go on and work on the saloon, then,” Emmett said. “Just keep your eyes peeled and your ears open.”
Juanito said, “This is what we’ll do, then: I’ll tell my mother and my father that if they don’t hear from you every two days, they must come over here to check on you. I’ll tell them that if they don’t find you, they are to send a telegram to one of us in El Paso.”
Sikes got up and paced a few steps. “That would only let you know about trouble after the fact.”
“Do you want to go as far as San Elizario with us?” Emmett asked.
“No.” Sikes shook his head. “I don’t suppose anybody’s going to come looking for Geneve and me all the way over here in San Antonio. The marshal over in El Paso and your friend Jack VanDorn have already staved off a posse once. You just let me know if or when you need me out there.”
“Sounds good.”
“When do we leave, then?” Juanito picked at the dried paint on the back of his hand.
“Give me time to talk to Jack VanDorn again. Come up with a firm plan.”
“Bueno,” Juanito said.
“One more thing, though.” Emmett looked straight at their English friend. He hated what he was about to ask, but he had to know, owing to the situation he was fixing to ride back into. “Sikes, if you don’t think I’m being too much of a nosey Parker, where did you get the money you’re using to open this saloon?”
Sikes stared back. “I’m the prodigal son, Strong.” His voice was low. “I’m not proud of it, but I broke off with my father and took my inheritance with me. Crushed the poor man’s heart.”
Emmett cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to pry. It’s just—”
“I know.” Sikes blinked back a tear. “Jack Van Dorn asked me, too.”
Struggling for conciliatory words, Emmett said, “Who knows? Maybe once you get the place going, turning a good profit…”
Sikes shook his head. “My father is dead now. Passed while I was in Africa.”
Emmett’s mouth went dry. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I…”
Sikes heaved a sigh, picked up the sandpaper, and returned to the bar. “I don’t fault you for asking, Strong. You backed me when I went to the Wild Hog for Geneve. And that Taft son of a bitch is lying about you just like he’s lying abo
ut me. Juanito, too. Now go clear our names and hurry on back. The lot of you are as much family as I’ve got these days.” He resumed his sanding with vigor, eyes fixed on his work.
Emmett crossed the stretch of plank floor between himself and his wife. “If you gents’ll excuse us, then”—he peered into Li’s eyes and saw her uncertainty—“I’d best go confer with my bride.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“He’s looking this way,” Lope Mendez murmured, motioning with his cigarillo toward the windowpane.
Victorio Sanchez went from idly staring at the handful of pinto beans he’d been pushing around a bowl for the previous twenty minutes to a focused study of the hombre on the boardwalk in front of the old drugstore across the street. He nodded. “That’s Emmett Strong, all right—the gringo son of a bitch.”
“He’s got that muchacha with him again. Pretty, no?”
“Ehhh, too skinny.”
Mendez grinned. “You always did like having a little more to hold onto.”
“That’s right.” Sanchez matched his friend’s smile. “Now”—he pointed with his spoon—“about Strong. We’re in no hurry. We want to do this in a manner that nobody can throw the blame on us.”
“You have something in mind?”
Sanchez grunted. “Find out where Strong drinks with his friends. Get close enough to listen to them. Sooner or later, he’ll reveal something about himself that we can use.”
“He doesn’t seem to be visiting the cantinas since he’s come home. Appears to be preoccupied with his new woman.”
Sanchez stared out the window. Emmett and the girl were now heading away from the drugstore. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened before. Strong is the one I want dead. His woman, I don’t care to harm her.”
“I understand.” Mendez stood and held the worn curtain aside so he could watch Emmett and his new lady friend round the corner. When he sat down again, he said, “Strong may not be visiting the cantinas so much, but his friends still go out for a few beers. I can follow them. Maybe they say something that helps us.”
“Good, good.” Sanchez scooped the last spoonful of beans from his bowl and shoveled them into his mouth. His eyes remained on the drugstore as a round-faced hombre wearing a black hat stepped out. “Is that one of them?” he asked, chewing with his mouth open.
“That’s the English one.”
“Hm.”
“I’ll wait till they both go somewhere together,” Mendez said. “Close friends will say more to each other than either one of them will say to mere acquaintances.”
Sanchez dragged a sleeve across his mouth. “You are a true friend, Lope—the only true friend I have left. I thank you for doing this.”
“Friends look out for each other, Victorio. This man stole four years from you. I’m only helping you collect what Strong owes to you.” He clapped his amigo on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” He winked and headed for the door.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The more Emmett thought about it, the more the news Jack VanDorn had brought from El Paso galled him. He hadn’t even set up a proper home with his new bride yet, and he was already having to consider leaving her with Papi and Mama Galvez while he was gone who knows how long trying to set matters straight.
Li cast a sidelong glance at him. “I’d rather go with you. I can wear what I wore when we escaped from Nevada. I can keep my hat low over my eyes and pose as a man like I did before.”
He walked beside her several yards, trying to decide what would be best. “Having people say unkind words to you is bad enough,” he said. “Having somebody shoot at you again is quite another.”
“I still have my throwing sticks,” she said.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And you do know how to use ’em.”
“You could show me a little more about shooting, too.”
“That’s not the kind of life I wanted to offer you.”
“If you were to leave me here, I’d be miserable wondering whether Taft got the best of you before you could prove your innocence. You don’t want me to be miserable, do you?”
Emmett wondered what would happen to Li if Taft did get the best of him. He’d have to make arrangements for someone to get her safely back to her family in Nevada. The mere thought of it irritated him, like the pebble that had somehow found its way into his boot. Barely married and already pondering final arrangements—it just wasn’t right. He offered her his arm. “Miserable is the last thing I want you to be. Maybe the two of us should just run away to Mexico.”
“Run?”
“Yep. Just go away. Live in a simple pueblo on the back side of nowhere.”
She slipped her hand into the bend of his arm. “You don’t want that any more than I do. Besides, you’re not an outlaw. And you’re not the kind of man to let an outlaw get the best of you and steal your life from you.”
It wouldn’t be the first time, he thought, recalling Victorio Sanchez. But no. That path was unacceptable. He owed Li—and himself—more than that.
They turned the corner onto Salinas Street. Emmett wished they’d ridden rather than walked.
What kind of danger or trouble was he willing to allow Li to face? She could probably handle a whole lot more than he’d ever want her to, unique and lively woman that she was. He glanced at her as she flicked open her fan and gave it a few quick waves. As ladylike as any woman ever. Yet she’d already proved that she could steel herself for business when confronted by men bent on slinging lead.
“Right, Emmett?” She nudged him. “We’re not going to live like that, are we?”
He stopped in his tracks and peered into her eyes. After a moment’s silence, he said, “No, we’re not. I don’t want to leave you here, Li. I want you by my side.”
“So you’re not going to insist I stay with Juanito’s parents?”
He shook his head. “Although I don’t know what I’d ever be able to say to your folks if I ended up getting you killed.”
“Let’s not think about getting killed. OK?”
He nodded, but still chided himself for being foolish. Careless. Childishly selfish. He’d just have to keep her close, do whatever it took to protect her. Out of the tangle of thoughts tumbling around inside his head, he found himself saying, “Juanito and I were going to carry out this little mission on the dodge anyway. Don’t see why we couldn’t use a third man—so to speak.”
She smiled. “So to speak.” Then a frown settled over her brow. “I know—this isn’t a game. It’s dangerous. And I’ll treat it that way.”
“We’ll both have to,” he said.
They resumed strolling toward the Galvez family home.
“Before Jack VanDorn comes back for our answer,” he said, “we need to do just like you said: take a ride out of town a little ways and get in some practice with a six-gun—one that’ll suit you better than that Remington we bought you back in Nevada. You gave me a bit of a fright when you fumbled trying to draw that thing.”
“When?”
“During the heat of that gun battle on the train.”
Li’s cheeks reddened. “I still managed to slow down Charlie Blaylock, didn’t I?”
“Nobody would deny your skill with those throwing sticks.” Emmett guided Li away from an oncoming carriage that was itself struggling to avoid clipping the wheels of a passing buckboard wagon. “But a time may come when your throwing sticks just won’t do.”
“So let’s go tomorrow morning, early,” she said. “Show me how to use a six-gun like you do.”
This was the least he could do to keep her safe. “We’d better take a detour and hurry over to the gun shop before they close, then.”
The next morning, Emmett and Li were in the saddle before the sun had cleared the horizon. They rode northwest out of the city and into the hills.
Emmett dressed as he
always did. Li wore trousers, a shirt and vest, boots, and a Stetson. Around her hips was a new gun rig. Emmett had thought about it and had concluded that a cross body draw would suit her better. He’d find out before the morning was over whether his reasoning had been correct.
In the holster, Li carried a brand-new Colt Lightning—a double-action .38-caliber six-shooter. He’d decided that if he was going to take her into danger, he wanted her to carry a gun that packed plenty of punch but with less recoil and weight than a Peacemaker or a New Model army revolver. The Lightning’s elegant little grips fit her hand beautifully. And he wouldn’t have to force her to unlearn any habits from shooting a single action—she had only once ever fired a pistol.
“I want you to start with those chopsticks,” Emmett said as they swung down in a quiet ravine.
She looked at him quizzically.
He took the sack of empty bottles he’d lashed over his shoulder and strode to a wide, flat rock on the other side of the gully. “You’ve been throwing those sticks for years, right?”
“Ever since I was a kid.” She glanced at the leather cattlemen’s cuffs she wore on her forearms. She had customized each with leather loops. Four of the nine-inch metal throwing sticks slid smoothly into each cuff.
“Every night after work, right?”
“Yes. Baba and I played around with them after we finished the chores at the restaurant.”
Emmett began to extract bottles from the sack and set them side by side on top of the rock. “So throwing those things is completely natural to you now.”
“I still have to concentrate,” she said.
“Of course.” He set the sack at the base of the rock and turned to Li. “But you don’t have to stop and think about your hands and your feet anymore. You concentrate on your target, while your body does the rest.”
“I guess so.”
She watched him until he stepped behind her, took her shoulders in his hands, and faced her toward the bottles.
“Just do what comes natural,” he said.
The next thing he knew, Li whirled and threw her arms around his neck. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him. Passionately.
Strong Suspicions (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 2) Page 8