When the morning rush had calmed, she’d been ready to head for the back of the house. She’d worked all night. No one would have faulted Calvin had the butler let Lydia’s security detail answer the knock at the front door.
But she hadn’t and fate had intervened again. She’d opened it to confront her nemesis—rival bounty hunter Deacon McCallister—and the man she’d been ogling and sighing over for better than a year. At that point, things all went to hell.
Thank God, Deacon had barely glanced at the Pleasure Dome butler. But then again, had he done so, Miri assured herself, it wouldn’t have mattered. It had been bounty hunter Beau Beauregard Deacon had exchanged insults with, not a harmless doorman named Calvin. Nevertheless, she’d hurried him to Lydia’s fancy sitting room intending to retrieve her prisoner and leave fast.
So why was she in bed with Deacon McCallister, grinning like a loon? It was a fact that she’d always had a hankering for him. She reined in her exuberance and concentrated on getting on with the job of collecting her prisoner and taking him to jail.
Had she not been hanging around outside the sitting room door eavesdropping, she probably could have made her escape with Ned in hand then. But she’d heard Deacon discuss counterfeit money with Lydia and had lingered. From that point on, she’d altered her plan moment by moment, risking her prize in order to be here.
When Lydia had almost caught her lurking outside the door, Miri had squeezed hurriedly into the broom closet on the first floor. From there, she’d heard the madam send the new girl, Melanie, up to wait in Deacon’s room.
As soon as the way was clear, Miri reemerged as Calvin and hastened behind the girl, redirecting her to another room. It had been simple then to slide into Deacon’s suite and wait for him. She hadn’t any fancy nightwear, so she’d settled for her butler shirt to cover the parts of her that needed covering.
She’d have liked to stay until morning, though that risk was unjustifiable. Anyway, no matter if she wanted to cuddle in Deacon’s arms and have one more bout of loving to remember the rest of her life—she couldn’t. For the sake of her prisoner, she had to leave. And it was just as well.
Deacon was all set to kick up a ruckus in the morning and she didn’t think it would be a good idea to hang around for the event. Besides, cool and dark under the porch though it was, Ned Jackson was probably a mite thirsty by now. He’d been quiet, but that didn’t surprise Miri either.
She’d left Ketchum guarding him and the wolf she hunted with would keep Ned silent. Carefully, Miri shifted toward the edge of the bed, putting real distance between her and Deacon as he rolled on his side, dropping his arm to clutch a pillow.
It was all she needed to slip from under the covers and make a beeline for the dresser where he’d left the key to the door. She pulled her wig and butler suit from their hiding place in the drawer and slid into the pants, retrieving the white shirt from the floor and tucking her shirttails in.
She picked up the pearl button he’d cut from the shirt and Miri cast a quick look at the bed. Deacon was on his side facing the opposite wall. Quickly she hid her hair under the wig, unlocked the door and stepped into the hall before again turning the key in the lock and sliding it under the door for him to find in the morning.
Though it was the predawn hour when few were stirring and the house was at its quietest, it took all of her skill to avoid running into Lydia Lynch’s security detail prowling the hallways. She passed through the kitchen where one of the outside guards stood drinking a cup of coffee and talking to the chef. Miri knew it was time to make her move.
Dawn was turning the night sky pink when she crawled under the porch and pulled Jackson from underneath the steps by the scruff of his neck. After a day lying in his own sweat and piss, he was a smell to be reckoned with. One whiff and she had to clench her teeth to keep from retching.
She ripped his gag off and handed him a canteen for a drink. When she started to slap the gag back on, he thrashed around and fought her until Ketchum got in his face and growled. Having a wolf assist in captures convinced a lot of the outlaws to cooperate.
With Ketchum by his side and Miri’s gun against his back, Jackson was docile. She walked him to her mount and, once there, didn’t give him time to fuss or fight. Shoving her shoulder into his gut, she lifted Ned and laid him belly-down over Possum’s saddle. Ketchum stood guard as Miri stepped in the shadows to transform herself.
She made quick work of donning Beau’s heavy buckskins, pulling on the bounty hunter clothes in a bulky layer on top of the butler’s suit. They were welcome since the weather had turned cold. She removed the leather spats from her feet and transferred the fancy shoes to her saddle bag.
It was doubtful she’d again find use for them, but she’d keep them in case she needed them in another disguise. She removed Calvin’s short wig, kept her own hair pinned high, pulled on Beau’s wig of light-brown hair cut in a ragged style, and slapped on her floppy hat. Once she’d laced up her knee-high moccasins and pulled on her duster it was Beau Beauregard riding his pinto and carrying outlaw cargo down Rusk Street.
Before the sun had completely reached above the horizon, the young bounty hunter had delivered Ned to jail and collected a promissory note. The release for the reward would be wired to the Eclipse Bank as soon as the US marshal certified that the prisoner in jail was the same man on the poster.
When the payment was released, Beau Beauregard, a bounty hunter well-known in Eclipse, would withdraw the funds and Miri would be set for winter. That’s when she’d relax, put on the shirt of Deacon’s she’d worn and subsequently purloined. That’s when she’d let herself remember.
Deacon was already awake and getting dressed when the key turned in the hotel lock. In pants only, holding his gun in hand, he faced the door, greeting the Pleasure Dome goons when they entered his room. Lydia was not far behind.
“Where is he?” she demanded.
“Who?” There was no one in the bed with him. But the scent of sex and tangled sheets testified that he hadn’t been lonely during the night.
“Don’t play innocent,” Lydia said coldly. “I have a steady customer who enjoys the safety of the Pleasure Dome when he’s in town. His horse is in the stable but he’s not in the house.”
“He’s not in here either.” Deacon shrugged and pulled a clean shirt from his saddlebag. “And I wasn’t bounty hunting last night.”
“Was Calvin in here?”
“Excuse me?” That gave him pause. Why the hell would Lydia think her butler had visited him? She answered before he asked.
“My butler as well as my customer is missing. Melanie says she was on her way to your room yesterday afternoon when Calvin rerouted her to another room.” Lydia looked with interest at the wrinkled sheets. “You obviously didn’t spend the night alone.”
Deacon didn’t argue about Calvin or try to convince Lydia that her butler hadn’t visited his room. Nor did he disclose the real occupant of his bed the night before. The two security men in his suite remained by the madam’s side, setting off alarm bells in Deacon’s head.
They were bruisers who kept the brothel’s working girls in line as much as the Pleasure Dome visitors. He concentrated on convincing Lydia he hadn’t poached in her territory by nabbing one of her customers. She lost interest in him and left. Before the door was completely closed, she peeked around the edge.
“Robert, I had no idea you favored that persuasion.”
Alone again, he searched the room, including flipping back the bed coverlet. His memory hadn’t been false. He removed the bottom sheet, folded it and put it in his saddlebag, then left enough money on the nightstand to cover the cost of the expensive bedding.
He had no desire to discuss her with Lydia but he intended to talk to his companion from the night before. No butler was on duty when he descended the steps but Lydia appeared and walked beside him toward the door.
“I take it I’m not having breakfast,” he said wryly.
“I’d prefer that you leave without a fuss,” Lydia said when he stopped in the foyer.
“I’m not leaving without talking to the woman you sent to my room last night. She was as tall as most men, slender with a full bosom and had pale-blonde hair falling long and straight.”
“I don’t know who you spent the night with. I’m sure my elusive butler Calvin could explain if we could find him. I think he was busy kidnapping one of my guests.” Lydia glared at him, anger marring her usual serene composure. Deacon frowned back.
“I have no interest in the peculiarities of your doorman. He’s well gone if he escaped your snare.” He focused on Lydia and said grimly, “But I do care about the young woman who came to my room.”
“If I knew who it was, I’d drag her here right now.” When she continued to deny knowing the name of the girl, Deacon opened the front door and started down the steps.
It was obvious Lydia wanted something from him as she walked with him to the street below. When they reached the bottom tread, she laid her hand on his arm to stop him.
“Robert, I’m telling you the truth. Melanie is my tallest girl. If I can find the Amazon you’ve described, she’ll be worth—”
Deacon’s hand wrapped around Lydia’s throat and he resisted the urge to throttle her. She gaped at him fearfully.
He dropped his hand, stepping away from the madam. The security guard aiming a gun at him was a chill reminder of the violence he’d almost unleashed.
He needed to find his night’s companion. He had proof in his saddlebag that she’d not been a prostitute in her past. He intended to see to it she never was. The frustration of having no name and no way to find her again left him gritting his teeth.
His long strides carried him away from the Pleasure Dome and down the street toward the stable. It was a shock when Lydia’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she hurried beside him, trying to keep up.
“Robert,” she panted, urgently demanding his attention. She grabbed his arm, whether to secure his interest or keep from toppling over, Deacon wasn’t sure. Since he’d choked the woman moments before, he stopped to see what was so important she braved his presence.
“I need you to go visit the Fort Worth sheriff’s office and see if any prisoners were brought in this morning.” White lines of tension showed around her mouth and her nails bit through the thickness of his shirt where she held on to him.
“Who am I asking about?”
“He goes by a lot of names.” Lydia’s answer spilled from her lips in a deluge of panic. “One of them is Ned Jackson. He was on his way here. He should have arrived yesterday. This morning, his horse is in my private barn but he’s not in the house.”
“And why should I care?” Deacon shrugged. He had no reason to help Lydia Lynch. On the other hand, here was Ned Jackson handed to him on a platter. He didn’t bother telling her that her friend was a counterfeiter.
“You need to help me because Annie was my friend and she’d want you to do this for me.” Lydia’s voice took on the petulant sound of a young girl.
“I seriously doubt that, Lydia.” But he had his own missing person to find. Since his quest began at the Pleasure Dome and he might need Lydia’s help to find the mystery woman before it was done, he agreed to visit the law office.
“And if your friend is in jail and I get him out?”
“Bring him here.”
* * * * *
Deacon’s visit to the Fort Worth law office bore fruit. He had no trouble getting the sheriff to talk. The town merchants had protested his crackdown on crime in the area. It was cyclical. After enough murders took place and too many whores committed suicide, the merchants would want him to get busy again. Meanwhile, Harold Tully spent more time polishing his gun than using it.
“Yep, that youngster Beauregard hauled Ned in this morning. Said he was a counterfeiter and government agents would be interested in talking to him.”
“You pay Beauregard?”
“I don’t keep money here, Deacon. I gave the kid a promissory note. He can cash it at any bank as soon as the US marshal comes in and confirms Ned is the man on the wanted poster.”
Well damn. The mouthy brat, a constant point of irritation, had tracked Jackson to Fort Worth and caught him. Deacon admired the kid’s skill at the same time he enjoyed putting a spoke in his wheel.
“You know he nabbed Jackson at Lydia’s place? She’s fit to be tied and sent me over here to see about it.” As expected, Tully was so riled he was ready to slap Beauregard in jail and release Ned.
“No respect, Deacon. I’m telling you these young’uns coming up aren’t like me and you. They’ve got no respect for the rules.”
Deacon winced when the sheriff aligned their ages since Tully was sixty if he was a day and Deacon was thirty-three. Nevertheless, he let the image of old comrades fighting against insolent youth stand without comment.
Ned Jackson was duly brought out from the cell where he’d been sleeping. For having arrived only hours before, he looked pretty rough and smelled worse.
“You keeping pigs back there, Harold?” Deacon coughed and backed away from Jackson.
“Evidently, he rolled in his own filth for a while after the butler caught him.” Harold wiped his eyes and then held a thick handkerchief over his nose.