Calico (4 page)

“I’ve found something that you want, right?” He slid one hand out from under his head, his gaze never leaving that of the dog’s. Satin didn’t growl this time, her ears laid flat back, and he could feel her body tense to spring. McCready put his hand back beneath his head.

“I’ll be damned if I understand why Mary Margaret named you something soft and pretty while she refuses to look like a woman. She’s got deep secrets, girl. Secrets I intend to reveal, just like I’ll find out how many of those adorable little freckles she has.”

Satin lowered her head, butting her cold nose against his chin.

“Am I to assume the idea finds some favor with you?”

The dog watched him with unblinking eyes.

He inched his hands out from beneath his head, and up came Satin’s head.

“Yeah. I get the message. It’s all right for me to talk, but no moves, huh?” Before he cradled his head again, Satin settled down. “Ah, Maggie my own,” he crooned softly, “for every minute this devil’s bitch has me pinned beneath her, you my love, are going to find yourself experiencing the very same attention.”

Two hours later, when Dutch opened the door to the saloon, his heart stopped. McCready was sprawled on the floor, his arms flung out to the sides, and Maggie’s dog lay beside him. Maggie had lied to him. Dutch didn’t want to believe it, but the proof of his own eyes was impossible to deny. She had killed McCready and left her dog so Dutch would know it was her.

The floorboard creaked as he stepped closer. Satin rose, hair on high, attack ready, until Dutch spoke to her.

“Easy, girl, I just want to see how she managed to finish him off.”

McCready lifted one thick brow, then opened his eyes to find Dutch’s hulking form bending over him.

“You’re alive.”

“There’s no need to reveal your disappointment, Dutch. And it’s with no thanks to you deserting your post. It should cost you a month’s pay for leaving me at the mercy of that creature.”

Looking him over, Dutch straightened. “You ain’t bloody, so I guess it couldn’t have been all that bad. And I had damn good reason to leave. I had the feeling.”

“A week’s pay, then,” McCready conceded, knowing Dutch’s
feeling
was nothing to toy with. “Can you get the beastie away so that I might once more stand like a man?”

“Ain’t fair, boss, losing my pay. You’re lying there—”

“I didn’t have a choice, man. The mongrel was lying on top of me, barely allowing me a decent breath, much less a move.” McCready eyed Dutch’s hand, absently patting the dog. “Don’t be rewarding her. Get her the hell out of here.”

“Sure thing, boss. C’mon, girl,” he coaxed, holding the dog by the ruff. “Go home to Maggie.”

Once Dutch had shown Satin the door, he returned to the end of the bar to watch McCready finish brushing the sawdust from his hair and clothes. There was a tight set to his boss’s mouth that boded ill. McCready poured them both a drink, sipped his, then demanded to know where Dutch had been.

“Unlike you, I’m not trusting those men you hired away from Quincy to kidnap him. Figured if they sold out to you, they might sell back to him. Went up to the cabin to make sure they were gonna keep him there until I went for him. It was a good thing, too. He was set on upping the ante to bribe them into letting him go.”

“I paid them plenty to—”

“I know. I know, boss. But Quincy was talking money. Big money for his freedom. Double what you paid them was the last I heard. I warned them but good just what you’d do to them if Quincy showed his face around here before you were ready for him.” Dutch shook his head. “Still can’t understand why you didn’t just tell Maggie the truth. She wouldn’t want to tie herself to a man who’d do anything to get those claims. She should’ve been told that Quincy planned to have himself kidnapped, and when she came looking for him, they were going to demand she sign over the claims for his life.”

“They’re my claims, Dutch. Stop forgetting that.”

He eyed his boss. Ah, McCready was sure getting touchy about Pete’s claims. Dutch decided to abandon talk about them. “You got to admit, boss, that Maggie sure looked pretty dressed in a gown. Didn’t she?”

The drink that McCready was nursing burned his throat. The glass hit the planked top of the bar. Liquor sloshed over his hand. “Don’t,” he grated from between clenched teeth, “dare mention that creature’s name in my saloon if you value your hide.”

“Didn’t say a thing about Satin, boss. I was talking about Maggie looking so damn good she—”

“By the bones of the bonny prince, shut up!” McCready’s eyes closed tight. Once again he saw Maggie’s luscious figure so firmly implanted in his mind that he knew he would never forget it. One of the sins on his most unforgivable list was being duped. Maggie’s offenses through the last year had multiplied until he gave her a priority listing of her own. One that demanded for the sake of male pride that he take some revenge.

Dutch sensed he had stumbled onto something more than all the past heated confrontations between McCready and Maggie. Like a man probing a throbbing tooth, he couldn’t resist another gingerly made thrust.

“That woman’s got a right fine figure. Surprised me, I’ll freely admit.”

“Dutch.”

Ah, he was right. McCready’s voice was soft. He sipped his drink, cupping the glass to warm the liquor, and kept his gaze pinned to the bottles lined up neatly against the wall.

“I did some thinking while I rode out to the cabin. Figure with the right educating in manners, she’d be a woman any man would be proud to have on his arm.”

“I’m fair warning you.”

“Yes, sir,” Dutch continued, ignoring him, “Mary Margaret has finally grown up.” Smacking his lips, Dutch turned and watched as McCready opened his eyes and faced him. It was a shame that the good Lord had seen fit to give a man as good looking as McCready a jaw soft as butter. Not in its shape, Dutch noted, it was manly enough, but the lightest tap knocked him cold.

“I did warn you not to mention her name.”

“But I didn’t.” Hands raised in protest, Dutch grinned. “Did the dog affect your hearing, man? Not one sound came from these lips of mine that sounded like the name we’ve all been calling her. I said Mary Margaret.”

McCready dropped his head forward, defeated. He couldn’t hit Dutch. He needed him for an ally. And if the Lord had stopped laughing long enough to see the serious matter at stake, Dutch would never know the licentious thoughts he was having about her. Maggie. A groan escaped him.

“If I didn’t know better,” Dutch stated, his brow deeply furrowed as he rubbed his chin, “I’d say you’ve got the same guilty look about you that usually marks your scheming.”

“You’ve been too long in the wilds, man. You’re seeing what isn’t there.”

“Maybe so, maybe so. What are you going to do about the female whose name I can’t be mentioning?”

A furious pounding at the front door of the saloon interrupted them. McCready motioned for Dutch to see who it was while he stepped behind the bar and broke the seal on a fresh bottle of his special whiskey.

“We’re not open for business, Dutch,” he called out just as the man lifted the wooden bar across the door.

Dutch nodded to show he heard him, but now he was really worried. McCready never turned down a chance to make money. Never. Dutch always blamed it on his Scot forebears.

Opening the door part way, his body blocking entry, Dutch looked at the two men, heard what they wanted, and closed the door. “Boss, it’s Abe and Jimmy Keystone, wanting to know why the door is barred.”

Without looking, McCready reached behind him, lifted a bottle of Dutch’s homebrew, and tossed it to the barkeep. “Give it to them with my compliments.”

Dutch nearly dropped the bottle he had just caught. Oh my, McCready was in a bad way for him to give away free liquor. Dutch did as ordered and once again barred the door before he took up his place standing opposite McCready.

“That’s the second bottle you’ve opened today,” Dutch said, tipping a bit into his own glass. “You want to tell me what’s wrong? I mean
really
wrong. I know this has to do with Maggie.” He met McCready’s glower with a steadfast gaze. “I know that I agreed to help you, but I still can’t figure out why you couldn’t tell her the truth about Quincy. She wouldn’t marry a man just for money.”

“That’s how much you know Maggie O’Roarke. Kessnick has money that Maggie wants to work all the claims. How could I be living with myself if I failed to protect her from such a lying schemer?”

Dutch choked, then swallowed the liquor in his mouth. He set his glass down and gripped the edge of the bar. “And what would you be calling yourself if not the same?”

McCready ignored the twinge of guilt that made itself felt. “It isn’t the same at all. I’m keeping my sworn word to Pete. He wouldn’t want Maggie tied to a man that agreed to marry just to get his hands on those claims. Once I had Quincy drunk enough and heard that he had no plans to stay married to her, I had to rescue Maggie. He bragged long and hard about the eastern mining syndicate that he was fronting for. When he realized that Maggie wasn’t about to sell the claims to him, not that she can, mind you, but that’s when he decided to marry her.”

“So, you’re still saying that you acted with the noble thoughts of sacrificing yourself to save her? And you’d be having the purest of intentions toward the girl?”

McCready tossed back his drink and moved to refill his glass.

Dutch stopped him. “I’ve rarely questioned you, but this time you owe me an answer.”

Having long ago made a satisfactory deal with his conscience, McCready wasn’t easily cowed by the threat in Dutch’s voice. A guilty conscience needed no accuser.

“Be satisfied with this, Dutch. My intentions don’t matter. I settled the question of Maggie marrying anyone.”

Slapping his boss’s back, Dutch poured his drink for him and even handed McCready the glass. “I knew you’d do the right thing and tell her the truth. Maggie’s smart enough to understand.” Tipping his own glass in salute, Dutch neatly downed his drink. Lowering the glass to the bar, he glanced at McCready’s untouched glass. “You did tell her the truth?”

“Did you know that telling the truth shames the devil?”

“What are you saying?” Dutch’s meaty hands curled into fists.

“Well, my friend, there are those who will say that the truth may be blamed but cannot ever be shamed.”

“The last time you got to recalling that fancy learning of yours was the night we got run out of Virginia City.”

“A ways back. But a most pleasant memory.”

“Hamilton Baker didn’t think so. You took him for almost thirty thousand on the turn of one card. Couldn’t blame the man for raising the question of where that ace came from, either. You were mighty clumsy in those days.”

Thinking of the hurt in Maggie’s eyes, McCready knew he was still clumsy.

“Seems to me,” Dutch went on, unaware, “that every time one of your schemes starts skidding the wrong way, you get to pulling out those confounded sayings.”

Grinning, McCready faced him. “It was a most memorable night, Dutch.” But under the man’s steady regard, his grin faltered, then died. “Almost as good as the night we met in New York and—”

“Never mind trying to lead me down that false trail. Pete was my friend, too. I made him the same promise that you did to take care of Maggie and watch out for her. So, I’m asking you once more, Mr. McCready. If you’ve done something to hurt that gal, best be telling me now.”

He couldn’t continue to meet Dutch’s gaze. Looking heavenward, and knowing there was no answer forthcoming, McCready sighed. “Dutch, I told Maggie that as her legal guardian, Pete married her off by proxy before he died.”

“That must have jury-rigged her sails just fine.” But gazing at his boss revealed one unhappy-looking man. “It can’t be bothering you that Maggie hates you a bit more?”

With a serious tone McCready admitted, “Actually, it does. And you’re right. She did look pretty all dressed up like a woman.”

Dutch found himself stepping away from the bar. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the lust, as pure as the gold from Mohawk Pete’s first claim, that was wrapped around the last words McCready spoke. He took the measure of a man whom he topped by a few inches and outweighed by a good seventy pounds. Something told him he was going to regret pushing McCready into telling him the truth. But he wasn’t a man who would run from knowing.

“Now, what would a man like you be wanting with Maggie when you have Cora Ann and that new songbird, Rose, to be fighting over who spends the night with you? You don’t need Maggie. You don’t want Maggie.” Dutch stopped. In his mind he once again heard McCready’s earlier confession. He told Maggie that Pete married her off by proxy. Dutch reverted to a string of blue curses learned on the New York docks. When he was done, he took a deep cleansing breath, released it, then asked, “Who did you say Maggie was married to?”

“You don’t want to know.” McCready turned and rested both elbows on the bar. He knew that Dutch wouldn’t let it be. He was deliberately allowing himself to be vulnerable. Perhaps he should renegotiate the deal with his conscience. Sure enough, the big man lumbered out from behind the bar to plant himself in front of McCready. But he had to give it one last try.

“Dutch, we’ve been friends for almost ten years. We’ve been in some rough spots and had a few narrow escapes. But there’s been times when we’ve had—”

“I know all that. Answer me.”

“You only knew Pete for three years. Yes, I know he’s the one that tipped us off that Cooney Camp would be the next big strike with money to be made freighting. But where the hell does your loyalty—”

“Never mind my loyalty. Leave it out of this. Who did you say little Maggie is married to?”

“Dutch, back off.”

Dutch noted the soft, soft voice. He thought about it for just a second and decided against its warning. “You’re gonna tell me, McCready, and without any of your lies.”

“Do you know that you’re the second one to call me a liar today? I must be slipping. But frankly, I’m getting damned tired of hearing it.”

“Then stop doing it.” With a quick shift of his body Dutch assumed a fighter’s stance. “It’s thanks to you that I’ve boxed my way through more than a few barroom brawls. You know that I’m always one of them that walks away. Unlike you. Friendship is the only thing that’s stopping me from taking a piece of you now. I won’t be asking this again. Who is married to Maggie?”