“Look here,” she said, leaning over his shoulder and pointing. “If you turn the bill upside down then the eagle looks like a donkey.”
Deacon did an odd thing then. He turned his head as she leaned over him and instead of looking at the bills, he inhaled.
When she jerked upright, moving away from him, he laughed. “Still stink like a wolf, Beauregard. You need a bath.”
Relief warred with pride. She’d not wanted him smelling her if somehow it reminded him of their night together. It was a possibility since every time she got close to him, his scent made her toes curl. On the other hand, knowing that she still smelled like Ketchum made her face burn.
She covered her chagrin with a taunt. “That bill’s named after you.”
“Jackass notes.” Deacon studied the twin ten-dollar bills and laughed at her remark, drawing her attention back to the money. “I’ve seen this kind of tenner before. Both bills look the same to me. Which bill is fake and which is real?”
“See that?” She tapped the string of numbers on the bill. “All the counterfeit bills have the same serial number ending in a one and a seven. Other than that, the money’s printed on the same paper as the real deal and the bills are the same.”
“Better have the clerks and bank tellers armed with a magnifying glass,” Deacon growled, returning the two bills to her.
“I ’spect they’re looking sharp. Most folks take money pretty seriously.”
“How did you come by your sample evidence?” he asked.
“Well, I was in the Dodge sheriff’s office picking up a stack of wanteds when this fella came in, complaining and fit to be tied. He’d ridden in late and his herd was small, so he didn’t get the attention of the main buyers. He’d sold to a banker named Syms and took payment in crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.”
Miri had felt so bad for the rancher. After all his work he was going home broke. He’d tried to deposit his money and been told his bills were fake.
“The sheriff couldn’t help him, other than to take down the description of the banker. I followed him out and bought one of his bills.”
“You paid him for the counterfeit money?”
“Yep.” Outrage erased her pleasure in storytelling and she lost Beau’s accent as she answered Deacon. “Dollar for dollar. He needed the money and I needed a copy of what I was chasing. It seemed only fair.” Her drawl became a snarl. “I’ve invested a pile of money in this hunt and you’re costing me my bounty.”
“We need to work together,” he said calmly.
Miri realized belatedly that she had hold of his shirt and was in his face. Hurriedly she released her grip on the material and stepped back, returning to her blanket. His placid indifference to her anger calmed her fury better than a bucket of water. She didn’t have an audience besides Deacon’s mount, Possum and Ketchum and there didn’t seem any point in arguing. Never one to miss an opportunity for entertainment, Miri spent the next part of the night educating Deacon on the counterfeiting going on.
“According to Hiram Potter’s contact with the Texas Rangers, Logan Doyle, Pinkertons were already in Texas tracking the spread of the tens when
whoop-de-do
, suddenly counterfeit one-hundred-dollar notes started floating into circulation. Some of the stockmen and merchants in Dodge got hit hard.”
“Anybody watching our bank?”
“Hiram warned ’em. The Eclipse Bank president said he’d be on the lookout. Comfort Quince has her clerks at the Mercantile checking each ten- or one-hundred-dollar bill against the serial numbers I wrote down for Hiram.”
“Tough to track the money with everyone spending this time of year.” Deacon looked pensive as he lit his cigar. After blowing out the match, he added casually, “According to Jackson, he was supposed to pick up another batch of phony money while he was at the Pleasure Dome.”
“I figured that.” Miri wanted to cuss a blue streak. “The coyote traveled under different names but he always ended up at the Pleasure Dome. Lydia Lynch? She’s got some fancy bathtubs to pay for.” As soon as she mentioned the bathing devices she wished she’d kept her lip buttoned. Deacon tensed noticeably across the way, staring hard at her.
“What.” She grimaced at him. “Did you think I worked there and never took a peek into one of her fancy suites?”
“Ever try one of the beds out?” he asked mildly.
“Naw, ’course not. I was her butler.” Of course that wasn’t the truth at all. But she sure wasn’t going to confess to Deacon that she’d tested one of Lydia’s beds with him and could personally testify the tubs were big enough for two.
“A kid your age needs to stay out of places like that,” Deacon growled. “You have no sense.”
“How old is old enough to visit a flop house?” She couldn’t resist asking.
“Older than you, that’s for damn sure.”
“You visit Lydia’s place often?” She tried to make the question casual but couldn’t keep the disapproval from her voice. Which was silly because she’d watched Deacon and knew for a fact he didn’t visit whores and brothels.
“No, I don’t. I only went there this time following the counterfeiter—as you did.”
”Then why’d you have yer way with my friend?” She hadn’t intended to ask that question. But as soon as it was out of her mouth, she waited with bated breath for his answer.
“Almost seems providential, I’d say,” Deacon drawled.
She didn’t understand that answer at all but there was something about his tone that kept her from asking him for clarification.
He didn’t shoot any more questions at her, making a point of laying his bedroll out to indicate that he was done talking. She thought about jabbering longer just to irritate him, but it had been a long day so she rolled out her own bed, slid under the blanket and stared across the fire, waiting for him to go to sleep so she could listen to him snore again.
Deacon hid his grin. Beauregard did smell a little like a wolf. But the male musk that should have been present on a sweaty young man wasn’t there. Instead, Deacon finally recognized why he’d been suspicious of the kid for a year. Beauregard smelled like a woman.
The damn floppy hat with its brim pulled low had disguised her features, the shambling walk, the slouch—as tall as she was, she’d not looked out of place in her settings. She wore loose buckskins, hiding her lithe grace, and added her Tennessee twang to the picture. The disguise was damn near perfect. Only her scent was wrong and she’d taken pains to cover that with the clinging smell of tobacco.
He wanted to ask her what frightened her so much she hid inside men’s clothes and hunted devils for safety. But though he’d explored her body, he wasn’t on that kind of personal level with her. She didn’t trust him enough to let him know she was female let alone admit she was his Pleasure Dome lover. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten past the hat yet.
The two counterfeit bills in his pocket matched hers. He’d gotten his hundred from Sam and his ten from the Texas Rangers. Deacon stared across the fire at the kid. Beauregard’s collection of information was impressive. And she’d gathered it alone, sprinkling business talk in with her tall tales as she’d visited with sheriffs from town to town.
Every moment shared with Beauregard erased more of her disguise, allowing Deacon to see what lay beneath. When he taunted her to anger, her Tennessee twang became a husky Southern snarl and she wore an expression of female outrage on her face. How she had managed to fool so many people for such a long time, he couldn’t fathom—but it was obvious she had.
“I wouldn’t have figured it out the way she keeps bundled up with no skin showing. But her eyes reminded me of a woman I once knew. I guess I looked at her harder and longer than most do,”
Hiram Potter had admitted.
Deacon still felt a stir of jealousy. Hell, she’d kept her hat brim down and her eyes hidden from him for better than a year.
Add that to the seductive virgin who’d ridden him to completion more times in one night than in all the other sexual encounters he’d had in… He snorted at that thought. Hell, he hadn’t had any. He’d been chasing Beauregard’s tail whether he’d admitted it or not. Unwilling to let her end the conversation, Deacon sat up on his blanket, interrupting the night’s silence with his question.
“Beauregard, what’s your business with Hiram Potter?” Possessive, animalistic intent blossomed in his chest. He knew what Hiram had said.
“My interest in her is fatherly. How about yours?”
They’d established that Deacon had no paternal feelings toward Miri though he was still stumbling over the idea that the kid he’d been trading taunts with for over a year was his Pleasure Dome companion. His initial impulse to expose her ruse had changed with Hiram’s caution.
“Even with her visiting me at the sheriff’s office so often, it took me more than a few months to figure out the truth of her being female. When I did, I didn’t mention it. If she’s hiding from someone, it’s not the law. I sent for posters from Tennessee and the states between here and there. She’s not wanted. That leaves hiding for another reason. I kind of hope she trusts me enough someday to let me help.”
“You Potter’s relative?” Deacon nudged her with his question since he didn’t have Hiram’s patience. Waiting wasn’t something he felt inclined to do when it came to meeting Miri again. In his thoughts, the kid and the seductress were still separate entities.
“I decided to adopt Hiram,” she drawled. “Havin’ no kin the way I do, I’m building my own family.”
Deacon tried to imagine what she’d do if he suddenly yelled
Take me, take me.
In spite of the buckskins and the Tennessee twang she used to put distance between them, every nerve in his body strained toward the woman across the fire.
He needed a way to stay close, an excuse to learn more about her and a means to keep her safe. Whether Miss Beauregard knew it or not, the rules had just changed. Before she retreated into hostile silence, he offered his proposition.
“I meant it when I said I want you to partner with me until we finish this job. I’ll use what money I have to tide us over if you’re short. I’ve got my own reasons for this hunt. My brother Sam and his partner Dan Hawks lost money the same way that cattleman did. They took cash payment for two appaloosas they sold.”
He stood up and walked around the campfire the way she had earlier, and this time, he pulled his bills from his pocket and showed her. “The Pinkertons took their money as evidence but Sam held back half of the bills. That’s how I have mine.”
“So you let me babble on and already knew all about the counterfeiter.” She gave him a disgusted look but he definitely had her attention. He didn’t know whether it was from his proximity or his evidence but she sat up on her bedroll and slapped on her hat, holding out her hand for the bills. She unwound, standing gracefully before she shambled away from him to crouch by the fire, using the light to inspect his money.
“The law’s still chasing three men. Maybe I can collect triple for Ned if I work it right. As for the plates, I’m doing fine on my own.”
“You can’t collect triple for one man even if I give him back to you. And you’re not going to find the plates on your own. You need help. I’m volunteering.”
“Why?”
“I told you. Sam and—”
“Good luck to your huntin’. Myself, I like to work alone.” She waved his excuse away and pulled her hat down lower, hunkering by her fire
Beauregard was smart, able to make connections and see patterns. She didn’t need him to think for her. But bounty hunting was a dangerous business and regardless of whether her disguise was revealed, eventually she was bound to get shot, stabbed, beaten or killed.
Deacon had just spent the better part of a year vetting the damn fool’s hunts. Beauregard knew the sheriff in each town—but Deacon knew the lawmen better. He’d made it a point to talk to each man about what posters to show the kid.
It hadn’t taken much to convince the lawmen to send Beauregard after swindlers rather than cutthroats although the brat had still claimed more than a few dangerous wanteds. But now…
“I’d like you to contact your friend and tell her I want to meet with her.”
“For what?” She was on guard, her voice filled with suspicion. “I asked before, you didn’t say.”
“I have no intentions of discussing my interest in her with you,” he said gruffly. “You just need to understand that I mean her well. I’d consider it a favor if you’d put me in touch with her.”
“I’ll let her know. Not promising she’ll want to see ya though.” The kid didn’t sound encouraging but Deacon piled on more reasons to meet the woman again.
“I’ll trade you a visit with the counterfeiter, who by the way says he’s Lydia’s brother and his real name is Edward Tolliver.”
His offer got immediate results.
“Done.” All business, the kid gathered her bedroll and kicked the embers of her fire out.
“What about my next meeting?” he asked as she crossed to where she’d left her horse ground-tied.
“It’s clear to me you’ve got a bad case of the babbles tonight. I’ll spell it out for ya. I’ll see my prisoner, talk to him, see if he’s got any leads for me. If he does, I might have to chase them and not your lady friend. When time allows, I’ll see to the meeting. Understand?”
She swung up on her horse and looked down at the wolf materializing from the shadows. “You ready, partner?”