Still, that didn't mean that Jesse was safe from scores of faceless enemies.
Nor was Liliana.
The pathetic young songbird groveled at Chalkey's feet, begging her lover for forgiveness, swearing she didn't know that Jesse was Colored.
Jesse looked livid.
Sadie's heart went out to him.
"Stupid whore." Chalkey wrenched Liliana to her feet. Even if he believed her, her value was ruined. No White man would pay half the amount to bed her that she'd been worth just yesterday night.
Chalkey shoved the stumbling blonde before him through the swinging doors, delaying his own entry long enough to shoot a malevolent glare at Sadie, shivering in her wrapper on the porch.
"As for you, girlie, that broken window will come out of your back. Your lies will cost you, too."
Sadie quailed at the threat. Chalkey never made threats! But then, he'd never had his lover cheat on him with a Colored man—and in such a public way.
Sterne stepped protectively to her side.
"You want to press charges?" Bassett demanded of the barkeep.
Chalkey's gaze flitted to Cass, standing grimly beside Jesse and their horses. Cass's hands still hovered near his holsters. Sadie liked to think that Chalkey's business sense—not the threat of Cass's guns—decided him.
"Hell, what good would a law suit do?" Chalkey snapped. "Quaid doesn't have any money. Just get him the hell away from decent folk."
He slammed back through the swinging doors. Doc and Luke followed in his wake, tipping silver flasks in boisterous good spirits.
Bassett stepped off the porch. Unlike Chalkey, he wasn't intimidated by Cass's guns. Then again, Bassett was backed by four mounted, badge-wearing sharpshooters.
"You heard the man," the city marshal boomed, taking several threatening steps toward Jesse. "Mount up, Featherhead. Personally, I think you're getting off too light. Cassidy, you got crap for friends, but that doesn't mean you have to suffer for it. Whaddaya say? Staying or going?"
Cass's face was flushed with anger. He glanced at the posse. He glowered at Sterne. Finally, he locked stares with Sadie.
Fearing that the Klan would lynch him if he stayed through the night, she furtively shook her head.
He scowled.
"Well, boy, make up your mind," Bassett called. "I ain't got all night."
"I'm riding with Lynx," Cass fired back.
"Suit yourself." Bassett waved two of his deputies forward. "Make sure they get out of Dodge. Preferably, in one piece."
Wyatt Earp and Jim Masterson nodded.
Cass mounted up. For a long, breathtaking moment, he sat his wheeling horse, refusing to take his eyes from hers. There was frustration in his gaze. Worry for her, too. She thought he might damn his pride, their eavesdroppers, and any protests from Jesse. She thought he would beg one final time for her to leave Dodge with him.
Sterne must have thought the same thing. Casually, as if he'd done it a hundred times, he draped his arm across her shoulders. She was so stunned by his familiarity that her jaw dropped. She blinked up at his stoic profile.
What she should have done was shoved him away.
By the time her dazed brain registered her mistake, she'd lost Cass. The flash of lightning in those burning blue eyes told her that his trust in her had been snuffed out—probably for good. With a shout to his horse, he spurred the gelding after Jesse's mare.
He didn't look back.
Her heart crumbled.
As the deputies gave chase, Sterne dropped his arm. He gave no explanation for his embrace. He simply tugged a cigarette from his vest pocket.
Sadie glanced uneasily at the broad-shouldered lawman by her side.
"Thank you. For helping me... um, help Cass."
"It's my job to keep the peace."
His match flared. He tilted his head, cupping the flame until smoke curled off the cigarette's end. She didn't like the way he made her fidget. She didn't like the cool, dispassionate way he exhaled his aromatic tobacco. She didn't like the way he fairly oozed power with his regal bearing, his six-shooter, and his badge.
But most of all, she didn't like that he wasn't Cass.
The spectators were dispersing now. Once again, piano music tinkled from the Long Branch Saloon. Puffs of bluish smoke drifted out of the taproom through the swinging doors.
Since the bullets had stopped flying, Wilma's girls must have felt safe enough to shove open their shutters again. They straddled the sills, waving coyly at staggering cowpokes. Horses stomped at the hitching post. Crumpled handbills tumbled along the gutter, herded by the breeze.
Just another Tuesday night, indeed.
The old, downward spiral of despair threatened to suck Sadie into the abyss, this time forever. She might never see Cass again. Chalkey was angrier than he'd ever been with her. She had no money. No protector. No future.
She stole another glance at Sterne's shuttered profile. He'd stood up for her against Chalkey. He'd come to her defense when he'd thought she was in danger from Cass.
Maybe the Wolf wasn't so big and bad after all.
"How much do you figure the United States government owes me?" she ventured.
He tapped ash into the wind. She'd roused him from his thoughts. But even though she'd reclaimed some part of his attention, his steely eyes stayed fixed on the point where Cass's black Stetson had melted into the night.
It occurred to her then, with a sudden blue-norther-like chill, that Sterne was contemplating a manhunt.
"With interest?" Sterne shrugged. "Hard to say. Ten, maybe fifteen grand."
She sucked in her breath. That kind of fortune would buy out her contract with Chalkey and still leave her enough cash for a horse, a new wardrobe, and a down payment on her own boarding house!
She swallowed hard at the notion.
Chicago was a long way from Dodge. The Windy City could be a welcome change. A fresh start. No one knew her there, and she could seed a lot of dreams with $10,000.
Sorry, Daddy.
Sadie made up her mind. If she had to screw Sterne all the way to Illinois, then she would. Besides, if she got him on a northbound train, he couldn't ride after Cass.
"You drive a hard bargain, marshal," she said briskly. "I accept."
At last those wintry-gray eyes focused on her. He looked amused.
"Accept what, Miss Michelson?"
She gritted her teeth. Had he been standing there all this time, waiting for her to reach the conclusions that she'd just drawn?
Smug bastard. You haven't won yet.
She lavished her most mouth-watering smile on him.
"Why, I accept your protection, marshal. For my journey to Pinkerton Headquarters."
The End
Want more Sadie & Cass?
Page forward for an excerpt from
DEVIL IN TEXAS
The Velvet Lies Series
Book Four
Excerpt from
Devil in Texas
The Velvet Lies Series
Book Four
by
Adrienne deWolfe
Bestselling, Award-winning Author
Galveston, TX
July 1882
Could a fella die of lust?
That's what William "Cass" Cassidy wanted to know as he gawked at the billboard with the golden-eyed redhead in the black-as-sin gown.
"Cassandra McGuire," his 17-year-old sidekick read aloud in dubious tones. "Sizzling New Singing Sensation. All the way from San Francisco." Collie snorted. "So that's her, huh?"
Cass wheezed.
"I thought you said her name was Sadie-something."
"Michelson," Cass forced from a tongue that had grown as dry as rawhide.
"Then how come the casino sign calls her Cassandra?"
The hell if he knew. Cass was just trying to breathe.
God have mercy on his soul. Sadie was still smoking hot—and at the ripe old age of 27! He'd kind of hoped she'd grown fat and frumpy. Or that she'd spr
outed a wart and Old Lady whiskers. At the very least, she deserved wrinkles...
"You need a drool bib?"
Cass's face burned hot enough to blister. "You got sawdust for brains to say something so stupid."
"Stupid ain't my affliction. I didn't travel a thousand miles to get my heart clawed out."
The kid had a point. Cass hated when that happened.
But he couldn't have stayed in Kentucky any longer. Tensions had started building inside him over Lynx's new fiancée—not that Cass would have cut his coyote loose on his best friend's woman. He would have moved mountains for Sera. So she really hadn't been fair to make him promise to give Sadie a second chance.
And speaking of unfair: who the devil had painted Sadie's portrait? Cass hadn't expected his heart to shatter all over again just because some artist had captured, to perfection, the glint of danger in Sadie's exotic, jungle-cat eyes...
Cass groaned. This wasn't supposed to be happening! This reunion was supposed to be a lark. A trip down memory lane. A rut for old time's sake. He'd told Sera why he'd had to put Sadie behind him: she'd betrayed him to the Texas Rangers.
Besides, he had more skirts chasing after him than even he could entertain. So why did he feel like he needed a bottle of fortitude to face the first woman he'd ever kissed?
Cass squared his jaw. This was ludicrous.
"All right. I'm going in."
Collie shrugged. "It's your funeral."
"And you're going in with me."
"No, thanks. I hear brain rot's contagious—Hey!"
Ignoring the growls of Collie's furry bodyguard, Cass dragged his snickering sidekick through the fancy, nautical doors of the Satin Siren Saloon. The foyer's ambient lighting revealed a high-class house of sin. He had the fleeting impression of gilded frescos, crystal chandeliers, and liveried faro dealers.
Then a hulking bully with gold earrings and anchor tattoos barred his way.
"What the hell is that?" the bouncer growled, fixing his good eyeball—the one without the patch—on the whiskered tub-of-lard at Collie's feet.
"You blind?" Collie had never taken kindly to authority, much less to authority that tried to separate him from his pet. "That's a coon, Blackbeard!"
Cass cleared his throat.
"Howdy, pard," he intervened. "Don't mind Coon Collie, here. Kentucky dumbass asylums don't get much sun. Our drought must've fried his brain."
Blackbeard sneered. He had only half his teeth, and most of them were chipped. "Coons ain't allowed. No dumbasses, neither."
"So who let you in?"
Blackbeard purpled at Collie's taunt. Cass had a vision of crunching bones and gushing blood—mostly Blackbeard's, if the bouncer dared to lay a hand on the coon's precious boy.
Fortunately for Blackbeard, a blonde in a flurry of gauzy turquoise strolled into the fray.
"Welcome to the Satin Siren," she greeted in a silvery voice that was reminiscent of chimes. "I'm Randie."
"I'll bet you are." Cass grinned appreciatively.
The bawd returned his smile, her rosy lips fairly dripping nectar.
Collie scowled.
"And who have we here?" Randie gushed, stooping to let the coon sniff her perfectly manicured hand.
"That's Vandy," Collie said tartly. "And my name's Collier. Collier McAfee. Just in case you get around to wondering."
Cass shook his head. Nothing annoyed Collie more than watching him score—which was probably why Collie refused to listen to his advice about women, courtship, and sex.
Randie's cool blue eyes swept over the boy's blonde hair and dusty Stetson, past his faded cotton shirt, to the empty denim pockets flanking his thighs. Spying no indication of wealth, she dismissed the kid and lavished her honeyed smile on Cass.
"You boys thirsty?" she purred.
"Sure." Cass kept grinning.
Randie winked and beckoned.
Cass hoped Collie would finally learn something.
* * *
All day long, Sadie Michelson had felt as if a skulking someone had been watching her, following her, lurking in the shadows.
Now she knew why.
Peeking through the stage curtains, she muttered an oath to glimpse her cocky ex-lover seated at a center table beside the stage.
Coyote Cass.
The Rebel Rutter.
Eros in Spurs.
There was no mistaking the man's star-white hair or trademark black Stetson.
Merciful God. What was Cass doing here?
Sadie groaned. In less than two minutes, she was supposed to sashay onto the stage, tease the all-male crowd into a lusty lather, and make her first contact with a corrupt state senator.
But how was she supposed to get James "Baron" Westerfield to confide all his loathsome secrets, when Cass was seated three feet away?
Panic threatened to drag Sadie into its undertow. This couldn't be happening. She wouldn't let it!
For three long years, she'd labored to forget Cass's soul-searing kisses. Clawing her way out of the ashes like a stubborn phoenix, she'd convinced Alan Pinkerton to give her a chance. She'd fought her way into the Master Spy's secret circle of men, accomplishing her directives in record time and more importantly, without bloodshed.
Now she faced the most high-profile assignment in her short detective career. If she could pin a murder charge on Baron, after all her illustrious male colleagues had failed, she would finally silence her critics.
Damn you, Cass! You're going to blow my cover!
Devil in Texas
The Velvet Lies Series
Book Four
by
Adrienne deWolfe
~
To purchase
Devil in Texas
from your favorite eBook Retailer,
visit Adrienne deWolfe's eBook Discovery Author Page
www.ebookdiscovery.com/AdrienneDeWolfe
~
Discover more with
eBookDiscovery.com
Page forward for
BAREBACK BRIDE
Pistols and Petticoats
Novella #3
Bareback Bride
Pistols and Petticoats
Novella #3
by
Sharon Ihle
Bestselling, Award-winning Author
Dedication
For my beautiful daughter, Sandra Dawn Johnson, and her husband CDR Norman T. Johnson.
Chapter 1
Centennial, Wyoming 1902
John "Hawke" Winterhawke crushed the note into a ball with his fist, and threw it against the kitchen wall.
"This isn't happening," he bellowed. "No daughter of mine is going to exhibit herself in a wild west show. I won't have it."
"There now," Lacey soothed, patting her husband's heaving chest. "Tisn't as bad as all that. Shannon is a good girl, modest as well. I am sure she will not be displaying herself in a way that might bring shame to this family."
Hawke kicked the floor with his boot. "I know all that, but she's too damn young to be running around the countryside looking for work."
"Tisn't work she's looking for, my husband." Lacey slipped her arms around Hawke's waist and rested her cheek against his chest. "Tis adventure, the kind of adventure I sought when I left Ireland and came here."
Hawke chuckled under his breath. "You weren't looking for adventure. You were looking for a husband."
She laughed. "And twas quite the adventure I had in catching one."
"You didn't have to catch me, Irish." Hawke pulled her firmly into his embrace. "I was yours the first time I looked into your sparkling blue eyes."
Lacey raised her chin and pressed her lips against her husband's. As she expected, he returned the kiss and deepened it into something more than a simple gesture of love. Lacy was just getting into the swing of things when Hawke abruptly released her and set her aside.
"Oh no, you don't," he warned, wagging a finger in her face. "I'll not be distracted from the matter at hand. Our daughter has run
off, not to mention aboard the mare I was hoping to breed this season. I've got to go collect them."
"Hawke, be reasonable. She has thought of that horse as hers since the day she helped give birth to it. You also know how much she loved the Buffalo Bill show. Don't you remember?"
"She was just a baby then, barely walking."
"She was six years old, and she never forgot a minute of what she saw. Tis been a dream of hers for years now to be a part of that show."
Lacey brought her hands together as if in prayer. "Please, please, give her the chance to make her dreams come true."
Hawke shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at the floor. Then he suddenly looked up and gave her a skeptical glance. "You're awfully calm for a mother who just found out her only daughter has run away. How long have you known about this?"
Lacey's ivory cheeks turned bright pink. "Oh, I, ah, read her letter before you did."
"You're not a very good liar, Lacey. How long?"
She offered a tiny shrug. "I guess maybe we did speak of this before Shannon left."
"And, I guess maybe you gave her your blessing?"
Lacey's grin was kind of wobbly as she said, "I guess maybe I did."
"At least that explains how she could just up and leave us without a word."
"Oh, but she didna go without a word. If you had read her entire letter, you would know that she writes of her love for us and this ranch, and promises to come for a visit as soon as she's able."
Hawke gave this some consideration, and then snapped, "She's too damn young to be off on her own."
Lacey smiled. "Shannon is two years older than I was the day I first stepped foot on Winterhawke Ranch."
He glanced at her, startled, and then shrugged. "It's not the same thing."
"I must agree. Shannon is a lot more grown up than I was and has a much better understanding of the world and its ways. That is why I know she will be perfectly fine."
Hawke blew out a sigh. "All right, then. I won't go after her, but I am going to send Caleb to Cheyenne to keep an eye on her."
Pistols and Petticoats (A Historical Western Romance Anthology) Page 18