Silver Lies (47 page)

"I was at the bank because Cooke had arranged for me to talk with Nigel about Joe’s loan. I thought the church could help. I have a professional interest in Mrs. Rose and her son, and I have a very personal interest in you." His hands moved slowly up and down her back. "As for coincidences, life is full of them. For instance, Abe, your missing husband, this current situation. Looks odd, don’t you think? Which, of course, is how the marshal sees it. Then again," he lowered his voice, "some of life’s events are nothing short of miraculous. For me, meeting you was one of those." He hooked a finger under the velvet ribbon circling her neck and brought her face down to his.

They kissed. She slid her arms under his coat, picturing the layers separating her hands from his skin. Waistcoat. Shirt. Undervest.
Three too many.

He pulled back, keeping his arms around her. "Why don’t I arrange for Bridgette to take Joey. I’ll be at the church, working on next week’s sermon. Meet me when you’re done. Afterward, we’ll pick up Joey with the rig."

She took his face in her hands. "How could you have become so much a part of me in so short a time?"

He drew a line down her bodice, echoing the trail of fastenings from her evening dress of Saturday. "Another of life’s miracles."

Her lips brushed his. "We must go down." She stood and tightened her hairpins.
One kiss and they all seem to loosen of their own accord.

999

Useless was late. Again.

Where the hell is he?

Inez poured drinks, smiled, chatted, and kept checking the kitchen door. Reverend Sands took Joey on the promised visit to the livery. Bridgette took orders for stew, biscuits, mince pie, and coffee. Abe was not due in until later, when the changing shifts at the mines and the dinner rush would swell the saloon’s crowd.

Doc arrived from the hospital. "Her bleeding’s stopped. Your prayers must have been heard. Have you seen Reverend Sands today?"

Inez wiped up a spill. "He took Joey Rose out for a while."

"Fine, fine. I’ll wait." He accepted his brandy and limped to a table by the kitchen door.

Jed Elliston came in, with an appetite for something besides biscuits. He set his pad and pencil on the bar. "I heard you’re adding new faces to your mural. I might start a running piece on this in the paper. Free publicity for you, human interest for me. We both profit. Any truth to the rumor you’re going to put Harry Gallagher up there as Lucifer?" His eyes shone with anticipation.

"You can just wait and see with the rest." She tossed an empty bottle under the bar and retrieved a new one. "After that piece about the dance, you have some nerve coming in and asking me anything."

He looked surprised. "I thought you’d get a kick out of it. Puts Harry in a bad light, and I know there’s no love lost between you two. I didn’t even identify you by name. Kept it anonymous."

"Cat DuBois and I are the only two women who own saloons on State. Any idiot knows that Cat’s not going to bite one of the wealthiest hands that feeds her."

"I thought you’d like it." Jed took his drink to a side table to sulk. Inez stared at the back door. Mentally willing Useless to appear.

A voice from a distant time and place broke her concentration. "Well, if it isn’t my favorite lady gambler. Long time no see, Mrs. Stannert."

Inez turned in shock. There was no mistaking the good-looking, compactly constructed man leaning on the bar. Under the derby hat, distinctive, heavy black eyebrows arched upward over pale gray eyes that were keen, intelligent, perceptive. Beneath the black mustache twitched a barely suppressed smile.

"Bat Masterson!" Her heart skipped a beat. "What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were recovering from the Ford County sheriff ’s election."

The smile faded a little. "Damn Kansas politicians. Pardon my French." He spat into a spittoon. "Thought I’d hit the gambling trail and see if Leadville lives up to its wild reputation."

"When did you arrive?"

"Late last night. Been catching up with old friends. Jeff Winney at California Concert Hall, Bailey Youngston and Con Featherly at Texas House. Heard your husband’s gone missing, Inez." His voice shaded into sympathy.

"Yes, well." She set a bottle and shot glass before him, "Mark’s been gone a long while now. Abe Jackson is part owner, so it’s not as if I’m running the place by myself. Do you remember Abe?"

Bat nodded. "Steady sort. Straight shooter at the tables. Leastwise, I never caught him dealing seconds. So, was I slow or he honest?" He winked, excusing her from answering. "Sure, I remember Abe. Mostly though, I remember you." His gaze brushed her mouth, traveled down her bodice—as if counting the buttons—then returned to her face. He smiled. "Heard you’ve got a game on Saturday nights. Any chance I’d be welcome?"

"Absolutely. Poker, no limits, high rollers with deep pockets. You’d like it. Profit from it too, I’m certain." An idea emerged from a welter of chaotic emotions. "Bat, are you thinking of settling here a spell?"

"Anything’s possible now that I’m not wearing a badge."

"Come work for me."

"That’s the third offer today."

"Well, I’ll double whatever anyone else says and throw in an extra percent of the house take. Come spring, we plan to finish the second floor for games of chance—faro, poker, the usual. We’ll need someone to run it."

Bat laughed. "You sure know how to tempt a gambling man, Inez."

He turned and scanned the barroom. As he did, Reverend Sands came out of the kitchen. Doc caught his sleeve. Sands smiled at Inez and nodded at Bat in a polite half-salutation before sitting down with Doc.

Mystified, she looked where Bat Masterson was staring. "Reverend Sands? He’s our new minister. What did you call him?"

"Reverend. Ha." Bat didn’t sound amused. "If Justice B. Sands is a reverend, then I’m Jesus Christ. I remember him in Dodge in seventy-seven. Worst of the worst."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, his moniker says it all. The sandman in kids’ fairy-tales puts them to sleep, right? You can run, but the sandman catches up with you sooner or later. Justice Sands was the same way. If he had your number—you got on his bad side or he was paid to hunt you down—there was no escape. Only the sleep he brought was the permanent kind. No waking until Judgment Day."

Inez gripped the edge of the counter to hold herself upright as Bat downed his drink.
This can’t be true.
Her heart felt as though it had been used for target practice.

Bat wiped his mustache. "The other reason he’s called Sandman—" he stopped, as though suddenly remembering to whom he was talking.

"Go on."

"Well." Bat coughed and had the grace to blush. "Sands had a way with the ladies. He’d just tip his hat and they’d, ah, fall into bed. With gusto." Envy tinged his words. "Anyhow, that charm was his downfall in Dodge."

Her knuckles turned white. "In what way?"

"Oh, it’s old news, Inez."

"You’ve told me this much. Tell me the rest."

Bat hesitated. "Let’s just say that ‘lady-killer’ fits him more ways than one. And I’m talking about a decent, married woman. Not some dance hall girl. Sands’d do well to leave Dodge off his preaching circuit. Folks there still remember." He stared at Inez’s drained face. "Inez, am I talking out of turn? You haven’t, I mean you and Sands aren’t—"

She gripped the bottle and poured Bat another shot, not daring to look toward Doc’s table. "What else do you know about him?"

"Well, I know more than a few so-called ‘bad men.’ Some friends, some not. But Sands is nastiest bastard I ever met. Especially when drunk." His jaw worked as if he’d bitten into an apple, only to discover it rotten to the core. "Gotta confess, when I saw him walk into your place I almost didn’t recognize him. He used to have a—" he described a vague arc above his upper lip, "bodacious mustache."

Inez sank against the bar, grabbing the corner for support. A far-away crash and the pungent odor of expensive whiskey told her she’d knocked the bottle to the floor. When she dared look toward the back table, Sands and Doc were gone.

Bat appeared alarmed. "Well, now, men do change. If Justice Sands is your reverend, proper credentials and all, maybe he’s had some sort of spiritual conversion." The doubt in his voice shouted out, loud and clear.

He bent to pick up the larger pieces of bottle glass, voice drifting up to her. "After all, you haven’t had any lonely wives turn up dead in Leadville since he’s arrived, have you? No murdered husbands?"

He missed the expression on Inez’s face as he straightened and placed the knifelike shards on the bar top.

"Uh, Mrs. Stannert, uh, I’m sorry I’m late, y’see—"

"Useless!" She whipped around, fumbling with the strings of her apron. "You’re in charge. I’ve something to do that cannot wait."

She turned to Bat. "Could you stay for an hour or so? Abe will be here by then or I’ll be back. I’ll feel better knowing Useless has backup, especially if it’s you. While we’re at it, let’s get you some free publicity. Have you talked to any newsmen since you arrived?"

"Can’t say that I have."

"Well, I’ll introduce you to the editor of
The Independent
and make sure everyone in town knows you’re here and anxious to test the gaming skills of the best." She steered him toward Jed Elliston’s table. "Jed—" He looked up, a sulky pout still lingering at the corners of his mouth. "Meet Bat Masterson of Dodge City and Ford County fame. He hasn’t been interviewed yet and might consent to an exclusive if you buy him a drink."

Jed leaped to his feet and pumped Bat’s hand with boyish enthusiasm. "What’s your pleasure? And what brings you to Cloud City?"

Masterson shot an amused glance at Inez. "You mean besides old friends?"

Jed looked at Inez with awe. "You know Mrs. Stannert?"

"Met her when she came through Dodge with her husband and Abe Jackson. I remember when she—"

"Keep me out of this. No telling tales out of school."

As Jed hastened to the bar for a bottle of the best, Bat asked in a low voice, "You all right? You’re not taking on Sands alone, are you?"

"I can take care of myself. It’s the saloon that concerns me. If you’d stay a while, I’d appreciate it."

"No problem, Inez." He adjusted his chair for a clear view of the room.

Jed came back with a bottle, two glasses, and writer’s lust in his eye. "So tell me, Sheriff Masterson—it is Sheriff, isn’t it? What brings you to town?"