A few minutes later, Casey entered the same establishment and took the table next to theirs. Only two of them even glanced her way when she came in, one dismissing her, the other showing some male interest. But they were too busy joking around and teasing the biggest member of their group about his busted nose and general sorry condition to pay her too much mind.
That had to be Elroy Bencher, the one who liked to throw his weight around. The teasing was understandable. He looked like he’d been stomped on by a horse and then stomped on some more. She couldn’t imagine another man doing such damage to him, big as Bencher was, but one of his disgruntled remarks led her to change her mind.
“Least I gave as good as I got. He ain’t lookin’ too pretty now either. If I hadn’t tripped and broke my ribs, he wouldn’t be a problem no more.”
Which led Casey to wonder if they might be talking about Damian…
After stopping the train that Bucky had put her on, much to the engineer’s chagrin, she’d come straight back here, hoping this was where Damian would have headed. And he had been here, according to Larissa the schoolmarm. Thank goodness. Her largest fear had been put to rest—he hadn’t died that day. But he’d already left Culthers again, looking for her. It sounded like they had missed each other by only a few hours.
But she was sure he’d return, and in the meantime, she had decided to see what else she could discover about Jack Curruthers. The plan, hasty and not well considered, she had to admit, was to see if she could get to know the want-to-be mayor on a personal level, and the quickest way to do that was as a woman.
She had Larissa to thank for the clothes she was wearing. She’d bought the schoolteacher’s last unaltered outfit from back East, one the woman claimed was too fancy for these parts anyway. An abundance of lace and bows wasn’t Casey’s style, but was suitable for her purpose, which was to look as different from the kid as possible.
After a few more minutes, she managed to catch Jack’s eye and smiled at him. That was all it took to gain his full attention. He wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man, after all, being too short, too nondescript in his looks, and he was twice her age as well, so it wasn’t surprising that it took only a coy smile from a young woman to lure him over to introduce himself.
“You’re new to our fair town,” he said after tossing out his name and pulling up the chair next to her without waiting for an invite. “Just visiting?”
She nodded, aware that his men were also paying her much more attention now, which wasn’t what she had intended. Too many eyes on her, and at least one pair was bound to see a resemblance to Damian’s sidekick.
“You look somewhat familiar,” Jack remarked thoughtfully, making her groan inwardly. His eyes hadn’t been the ones she had figured would be that discerning. “Have we met somewhere else, perhaps?”
“Well, I am widely traveled, at least here in Texas. You?”
“Very.”
“I’ve stayed in San Antonio recently, as well as Fort Worth,” she told him.
Those two names had him frowning. She knew she was pushing it, mentioning towns that Henry—or Jack himself—had passed through, so she quickly added, “And Waco. Now there is a lovely town.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter if I’ve seen you before, because I’m sure we haven’t actually met. That I would remember. And your name, ma’am?”
“Jane” was the easiest name that came to mind, and she grabbed a last name from the condiments before her on the table. “Peppers.”
“And who is it that has the pleasure of your company while you’re here?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Who exactly are you visiting here?” he clarified.
“Oh, Larissa Amery. You must know her, since she’s Culthers’s only schoolteacher right now. We went to school together, and haven’t seen each other for the longest time, so I figured we were due for a visit.”
“You’re from the East as she is, then?” He was frowning again. “Strange, but your accent is distinctly Western—Texas, to be exact.”
“Well, I should hope so. I was born and raised here. I merely finished my schooling in the East. But since you mention it, you sound like an Easterner yourself. So you’re fairly new to Texas?”
“Let’s not talk about me, Miss Peppers. I’m much more interested in you.”
That had been said to flatter her, but all it did was have her mumbling mentally. This was turning out to be a bad idea, after all. He wasn’t stupid enough to let something slip, especially to a new acquaintance. And two of his men at the next table were watching her like hawks. She was wondering what excuse to use to get up and leave when Jed did the getting up and came over to whisper in Jack’s ear.
The little man shot to his feet immediately, bellowing obscenities. Casey didn’t have to wonder why as she caught the look of outrage that he turned on her. She stood up. It was automatic to reach for her gun—which wasn’t there.
She did have a gun, though, in her large reticule, one she had bought as soon as she got to town, since her holster had been empty the day Bucky had carted her off. Her holster was in there, too. The problem was, how could she get to it now.
But none of the six men were wearing guns either. And this was a public place they were in. There were other customers present, employees—witnesses. Running for public office, Jack wasn’t going to do anything stupid like have her killed on the spot. His style was to send out lackeys to do his killing, and in less than honorable ways—just as Henry had done with Damian’s father.
So Casey tried extricating herself from the confrontation. After all, Jack hadn’t revealed anything to her. No harm had been done. Just because six men were all looking as if they’d like to get their hands around her neck didn’t mean she really had anything to worry about.
“I believe I’ve lost my appetite,” she said as she reached down for her reticule.
A hand clamped to her arm, preventing her from getting it. “You’ve got some nerve, lady,” Jed said. It was his hand, and he wasn’t letting go.
“Really?” Casey replied. “And here I thought I was just hungry, and this was a likely place to find some vittles. Or is there a law against having lunch in this town that I wasn’t aware of?”
“Lippy-mouthed—”
“That’s funny—”
Jack cut off the comments of his men with a whispered hiss. “I know exactly what you tried to do, girlie, and that is a crime in my book.”
He then glanced at Jed, and Casey didn’t need much intelligence to interpret that look. It plainly said, Take care of her and see to it personally this time. When she felt the pressure on her arm change, as if she were about to be dragged out of there, Casey figured she’d better start worrying—and change her tactics.
So she blurted out, “Okay, which one of you is going to take me on?”
“Take you on?” It was Jed who asked, giving her a blank look.
“In a fair fight,” Casey clarified.
Elroy smirked. “I will.”
“In a fair gunfight,” Casey clarified further. “Or are you all too cowardly for that?”
There was a chuckle before someone said, “Don’t think she knows who she’s dealing with.”
“Oh, I do indeed,” Casey replied contemptuously. “Ambushing is more your style.”
That remark produced a few red faces. Then the one sucking on a candy jawbreaker said quietly, “I’ll take her on.”
“No, I want to,” the youngest among them put in eagerly. “Let me, Jed. I don’t mind killin’ no woman—if she is a woman,” he said with a derisive sweep of his eyes down her body. But then he continued with a chuckle. “Guess the undertaker will find out for sure afterwards, won’t he?”
“Just take it out into the street,” Jack said fastidiously. “Gunsmoke lingers, and I’d just as soon not smell it while I’m eating.”
Chapter 37
They’d marched her back over to the saloon, where with a single word the bartender had reached down a
nd started piling weapons on top of his bar. Their weapons. So they’d never really been without them, just didn’t wear them handy, probably for political reasons.
It had been decided that Mason would face her. Jed’s younger brother was pouting over being passed over, and had nearly gotten backhanded for complaining. But Jed wasn’t taking chances here. He wanted his fastest gun.
They all strapped on their guns, though, making Casey wonder just how fair a fight it was going to be. They even offered her a weapon. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it didn’t have a single bullet in it. She declined, of course, and retrieved her own.
She would have liked to have time to change her clothes, but didn’t think she’d get any approval if she asked. It just felt…odd, strapping on her gun belt over such a fancy dress. The snickers she was receiving weren’t at all surprising. Not one of these men expected her to know much about guns. They were expecting an outright slaughter—hers.
Back outside, Casey moved down into the middle of the street. Mason was the last to leave the saloon. He was a tall, slim man, with black hair floating about his narrow shoulders and a very neat, trimmed beard. He’d removed his coat, despite the chill of that October day. Underneath was an embroidered silk vest that went with his business suit. He looked about as unusual with his double-holstered gun belt as she did. Nothing like looking civilized and uncivilized at one and the same time.
The street had been cleared immediately, as if the townsfolk knew what to expect. Just having Jack’s bunch step out wearing their guns had seen to that. Made Casey wonder how much blood had been spilled outside Barnet’s since Jack had arrived in Culthers.
Her father would blister her hide if he ever heard about this. Capturing outlaws was one thing. Chandos had taught her long ago about the element of surprise, and she had made good use of that knowledge in her bounty-hunting career. She didn’t give outlaws a chance to draw on her, and even if they did, her weapon would already be out, already be in command of the situation.
This was entirely different, standing there facing someone, giving him the opportunity to draw on her. She was fast with her draw. She was also very accurate with her aim. But still, timing would be everything here, and it was downright disconcerting, knowing that. And Bucky and his friends had said Mason was fast…
Her palms were actually beginning to sweat. To have suggested this had been real stupid on her part. She could have thought of some other way to get out of that restaurant in one piece—if she’d had more time to think on it. She could even have started screaming, playing the threatened female. Someone might have come to her defense—and gotten himself killed as well. No…but damn, she had the feeling she was going to die.
And Mason, he looked as calm as it was possible to be. He was used to this sort of thing. Casey didn’t look nervous either, but then, she was drawing on inner resources so she wouldn’t show what she was feeling. She was, in fact, as nervous as she’d ever been in her life.
She watched Mason’s eyes, cold, impartial. He didn’t mind killing folks, didn’t mind killing her either. It took a certain kind of man to be that way, the kind she didn’t care to get to know. Then suddenly it was happening and she didn’t have time to think about it anymore, just reacted naturally as she’d been taught to do.
And she had to allow that she’d been taught well. She was still standing. Mason was falling. She was so surprised over that, she didn’t notice Jethro drawing his gun on her. A rifle cracked to her left. Jethro’s gun hand was hit. He started screaming. Other weapons were quickly drawn to retaliate.
Casey hit the dirt and rolled before she fired off another shot. And now other bullets besides those coming from the rifle were peppering the street and the front of the saloon, forcing everyone to run for cover, though the shots weren’t hitting anywhere near where Casey was lying. She couldn’t see where they were coming from either, but obviously, someone else in this town didn’t take kindly to Jed and his boys ganging up on a woman.
She wasn’t going to lie in the open with her frilly dress all bunched up, just asking for a bullet. Fortunately, the rifle was giving her plenty of opportunity to get up and get moving, which she did, dashing toward the restaurant. Once stationed next to the door inside, she returned the favor, and in another moment, Damian was there glowering at her.
“Not now,” she said, knowing he was just dying to lay into her, he looked so furious.
The window shattering next to them must have encouraged him to agree, because he moved over to it and started firing off his rifle again. Now that she had a chance to actually look at the scene outside, she saw that Elroy Bencher hadn’t made it to cover in time, probably because of his broken ribs. He’d taken a bullet in one knee and was curled up in a ball on the porch of the saloon, moaning something terrible.
Candiman was lying across the steps. He looked a mite dead. Mason was still in the street, unmoving, dead or not, Casey didn’t particularly care at the moment. The other three had managed to get inside the saloon, and at least one was firing from behind the door.
“I take it you’ve recovered your memory?” Damian asked between shots.
“Never lost it.”
He snorted. “Just what did you think you were doing out there?”
So he wasn’t going to wait? “I didn’t go issuing challenges, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just figured since I had time to kill, waiting for you to show up, I’d try to get Jack to open up a little. Men are known to do a certain amount of bragging when women are around, and I don’t exactly look the same in this outfit.”
“You really thought they wouldn’t recognize you?” He shot her an incredulous look.
She managed to keep from squirming. “Well, they weren’t exactly paying attention to me that day you first confronted Jack. You announce that you’re arresting their money supply, and every eye in that saloon went to you and stayed on you. I was simply a no-account kid who happened to be at your side. So yes, I didn’t think they’d recognize me, and they didn’t—least not at first. And the rest you can imagine. Jack realized I was trying to trick secrets out of him and took exception.”
He said no more on the subject—for the moment. But after firing a couple more shots out the window, he did glance her way again. “You—uh—you look very pretty in that dress, by the way,” he remarked.
Casey snorted this time. “Bows! It figures you’d like silly bows.”
“Excuse me? I give you a compliment and you snap my head off?”
“No, I’m feeling like ten kinds of a fool, that’s why I’m snapping your head off. And you wouldn’t happen to have any extra bullets, would you?” she asked after loading the last from her gun belt.
A box of bullets came sliding toward her from the back of the restaurant, compliments of a very frightened cook. Her own weapon came sliding toward her from Damian’s direction. Well, hell, with this extra firepower, she started thinking about ending this thing for good.
“Maybe one of us should try to get in the back of the saloon,” she suggested to Damian as she stuck the extra gun and bullets in her reticule, which was slung over her shoulder to keep it handy but out of the way. “Before they think about leaving from it.”
“One of us, as in you? Forget it. And I’m not letting you out of my sight, so forget that, too. Where the hell’s the sheriff when you need him?”
“Conveniently gone fishing, probably. But they felt no qualms about pulling an unfair gunfight, so I’d say if he was here, he’d be shooting from their side. It’s just as well if he doesn’t show up.”
“A moot point.”
“Why?”
“Because I just saw one of them dash across the back of that alley next to the saloon. Looks like they’re leaving after all.”
Casey peered across the street again. She fired off another shot, waited, but there was no return fire this time.
“Only one?” She frowned.
“I barely noticed that one. The other two could have crossed
already.”
Casey nodded. “I’m not going to step out there to make sure. How about we head out the back ourselves and see if we can cut them off at the stable?”
“Now that I’ll agree to. Come on.”
The stable was about a block and a half away. Taking the back-street approach when there wasn’t a back street required hopping a few fences. At least Damian did some hopping. Casey got lifted over any obstacles that got in their way, and, after the first such unasked-for help, didn’t bother complaining again. If she was going to wear a dress, then she would damn well be treated like someone wearing a dress, he told her.
Particulars—from a man still furious about coming into town and finding her in the middle of a gunfight. She wasn’t dumb enough to argue, though—at least not now. But later, she’d be sure to mention to him that wearing a dress did not define a person or her capabilities. Hadn’t she left home to prove that very point?
The stable was, fortunately, on their side of the street. The back of it was fenced off for an exercising corral, but was still the easier path to enter without getting shot right off. That is, if Jack and the two Paisley brothers had arrived there yet—and if that was their destination. Which didn’t seem to be the case. The stable owner was slowly pitching hay into a nearby stall.
But at second glance, the man looked a mite nervous, too nervous considering he didn’t know why they were there. They might have their weapons out and ready, but neither was pointed at him…
Casey tried to grab Damian’s arm to stop him from proceeding further, but he’d stepped too far in front of her. And quicker than giving him a warning, she threw herself at him, knocking them both to the ground—just as the shot was fired.
The stable owner ran, yelling, out the wide-open front entrance. Damian rolled to his left before firing off a shot, at nothing in particular, since he didn’t have a visible target yet. Unfortunately, Casey rolled in the opposite direction at exactly the same time, and right within Jack Curruthers’s reach.
A gun nozzle pressed into her neck, while “Drop it” was hissed in her ear.