Between Love and Lies (7 page)

The thin man who’d introduced himself as simply Davenport before sitting down on her left was harder to nail down. Dressed in the swanky garb common to professional gamblers, he reminded her of Edward. On her first evening at the Star, Edward had paid Gertie an outrageous amount for Sadie, sufficient for five months of exclusive companionship. He’d been her first lesson in the good that money could do.

Davenport even had similar mannerisms, but something about him made her wary. She looked closer.
There it was.
His expensive clothing had frayed around the collar and cuffs. Edward always said an unkempt gambler was a man down on his luck.

When luck deserted this man completely, what would he do?

She frowned as Davenport’s slender fingers tossed more chips on the pile, and he raised the bet. Had he ever seen a day’s labor? Her gaze swung to Noah’s hands, capable and tanned, deftly holding his cards. When he ran his thumb over their tops, she tensed for another reason.

This unwanted desire could ruin everything. Distracted people forgot the plans they’d crafted so carefully. They also lost track of the dangers sitting right next them.

The memory of Miller’s bruising grip on her arm had her scanning the other men at her table.

A pair of cowboys, fresh from the trail, rounded out their group. They wore snow-white band-collar shirts and pinstriped trousers, most likely purchased this morning from Wright and Beverly’s Mercantile. They played impulsively and flamboyantly with dollars she suspected were as new as their pockets. Come morning, they’d only have the pockets.

A wave of fatigue flooded her. These nights were becoming more difficult to endure. Her condition seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. Tonight, her body ached while the dry cough hovering in her throat seemed relentless. Stiffening her backbone and her resolve against her weakness, she focused on the cards lining the table and those she dealt off the deck.

She might be ill, but she must only show a hint of poor health, just enough to support her ruse. Gertie was strict about appearances, and her motto:
give the customers what they want or, failing that, the illusion they’re getting it.

She’d use the madam’s own advice to beat her.

A victorious hoot pulled her from her thoughts.

One of the cowboys leaned across the table and pointed his finger at Davenport. “This time I’ve got ya! Yer winnin’ streak’s over.”

Davenport’s luck tonight was indeed remarkable. She hadn’t caught him cheating, but she didn’t need to see something to know it was true. If he was playing the table, now was the time to be sensible—fold a hand or two, let the cowboys have a few wins.

Noah folded, as did Wardell. All eyes turned to Davenport.

He tossed more chips onto the pile. “I don’t know, gentlemen. I think lady luck remains on my side.” He winked at her and then addressed the cowboys. “Shall we see if she’s on yours?”

One of them slapped down his cards, three queens and a pair of jacks. “A full house! You’ll need more than luck to beat that.”

Davenport revealed his hand: four aces and the king of clubs…the highest fifth card.

Sadie stiffened. The fool. The arrogant fool.

“That’s— That’s impossible.” The cowboy swallowed convulsively. His bulging eyes finally narrowed. “Yer a low-down cheat.

“And you are a poor loser.” Davenport laughed and reached for the pot. The cowboy seized his arm. Davenport struggled to shake off his hold. A pair of kings fell out of his sleeve.

Everyone froze. Except for Davenport. His gaze darted around the table, scurrying from face to face before halting on hers and flaring with hope. She was his way out.

Alarm snapped her nerves tight. She sprang to her feet at the same time as Davenport. He jerked free of the cowboy and grabbed her, yanking her in front of him. One arm encircled her throat, while the other leveled a derringer at the rest of the room.

“Stay back or I’ll shoot.”

Everyone complied except Noah. He advanced as Davenport shuffled backward, dragging her with him.

“I said, stay back.” Davenport turned his palm pistol toward her. The elaborate floral scroll engraving the barrel flashed close by her eyes before disappearing. Only to be found again when the mouth of the barrel came to rest against her temple.

Terror, swift and unstoppable, wrenched a gasp from her lips.

Noah halted.

“That’s better. I don’t want to hurt the lady.” Despite his words, he jammed the gun harder against her skull. “But if anyone tries to stop me, I will.”

Her lungs seized, depriving her of air and hope.

“You’re going to be fine. Just fine,” Noah said in a low, unhurried drawl. His gaze held hers. The honey-brown depths warmed her, chasing away her fear. Then his regard cut to Davenport and his expression became so cold and unforgiving her blood turned to ice.

“You, on the other hand, are a dead man.” Noah’s vow cut the air like a whip.

With her as a shield, Davenport retreated toward the rear door that opened to the alley. Noah moved with them, never once taking his eyes off Davenport.

“You have no say in the matter.” Davenport’s back hit the door and they stopped. The arm around her throat tightened, but the hand holding the derringer lowered.

The removal of the gun barrel from her temple left her shaking with relief. Now was the time for her to break free. Free of everyone in this room, free of Dodge. She drew in a breath for courage and strength.

“As you can see I still—” Davenport fumbled with the doorknob, trying to open it while maintaining his grip on the gun as well.

What if he succeeded in forcing her outside? Into the murky alley? And the endless black beyond? She couldn’t let that happen. Keeping her arm close to her body, she raised her hand.

Behind her, the door squeaked. A gust of frigid air raised gooseflesh on her already chill skin.

“I still hold the winning hand,” Davenport finished in a triumphant tone. The chest behind her shook with laughter. “I’m leaving and taking this pretty card with me.”

Her fingers curled into a fist. She swung her arm down and back. Her elbow struck the paltry flesh of Davenport’s midsection. His gasp echoed in her ear. She wrenched sideways, aiming to slip her chin under the noose loosening around her neck—until it jerked tight again.

A shot rang out. The acridity of gunpowder stung her nostrils. Suddenly, she stood alone. She was free!

The desire to remain free overpowered her. With it came the impulse to leap to the second part of her plan—to take the steps she’d arranged for her flight from Dodge without being caught. She spun toward the door.

The flash of an engraved derringer caught her eye, then the man holding it despite otherwise sprawling limp on the floor between and her escape. Blood seeped from a tiny hole in the center of Davenport’s forehead. His wide eyes stared sightlessly up at her.

He’d passed from this mortal realm into the next. For him, Dodge wasn’t even a memory. Would death be the only way she’d leave as well?

The room tilted and she joined him on the floor.

CHAPTER 5

“Why’s she shivering
like this?” Noah laid his hand gently against Sadie’s forehead, and his concern grew. “Her skin’s cold as winter. What’s wrong?”

After Sadie had collapsed, he’d carried her, under Gertie’s watchful eye, to the Star’s second floor and placed her on a narrow bed flanked by an ancient bureau and a sliver of a window. The cramped room held faded red walls, yellow curtains and rough-hewn floorboards unadorned by any rug. There wasn’t even a single chair.

Gertie had said this was Sadie’s room, but it wasn’t the kind of room he would’ve pictured her residing in. It resembled the lodgings of a maid more than a painted lady. The madam stood at the foot of the bed while he knelt by one side and the town doctor hovered by the other.

Doctor Rhodes blew a tangle of coffee-colored hair with a single streak of white away from his eyes as he bent to inspect Sadie’s pallor and breathing. “Chills and fevers are common symptoms of syphilis, but this could also be from shock brought on by tonight’s events.”

A rumpled dark-blue suit jacket hung from the man’s stooped shoulders, making Noah think he hadn’t seen his bed in a while.

Rhodes rummaged through his beat-up case before he shut it with a snap and a sigh that spiked Noah’s frustration. “Not much we can do besides make her comfortable and give her some quiet.”

Noah glared at him. “There must be something more.”

The doctor’s hunch became more pronounced like a porcupine curling up in defense. Why wasn’t he offering options? Didn’t doctors swear oaths to cure people?

Rhodes turned toward the door.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Noah roared in disbelief.

Spine ramrod straight, Rhodes spun to face him. Anger flashed in the depths of the man’s dark eyes. “There really is nothing I can do. Meanwhile a dozen more patients are waiting on me.” Inch by inch, the hunch reclaimed his shoulders as he muttered, “Maybe I can help them. Maybe I can’t. Some days I wonder if I’m doing any good for anyone in Dodge, what with the shootings and the like.” His gaze cut to Gertie. “Has she been taking the medicine I prescribed?” When Gertie nodded, his expression turned remote. “Then she’s in the Lord’s hands.”

Noah fought the urge to shake the doctor until he said differently. Instead, he pulled the thin blanket over Sadie’s trembling body. Worn and threadbare, it was the only covering on the bed. She continued to shiver beneath its meager weight. He felt his scowl deepen.

He removed his sheepskin coat and draped it over her. The garment engulfed her slight frame. When her tremors lessened and her breathing eased, he hunkered down by her bed again and stroked her hair away from her face. The vibrant red strands highlighted skin as white as death.

His heart clenched at that possible outcome. “This medicine you mentioned—”

A knock on the door cut him off.

Grumbling at the intrusion, Gertie crossed to open the door. A man in his twenties with dark hair and a compact body stepped over the threshold. Gertie’s downturned mouth lifted into a welcoming smile.

“Marshal Masterson,” she purred. “Wonderful to see you. It’s always a pleasure when you visit the Northern Star.”

Masterson tugged the brim of his hat. His eyes crinkled at their corners as he returned Gertie’s smile. “Pleasure’s all mine, Madam. Unfortunately this ain’t a social call.” The lawman’s face shuttered as he surveyed the other occupants of the room. His gaze lingered on Sadie’s prone form before coming to rest on Noah. “Heard tell a man got killed tonight.”

Noah had never been on the wrong side of the law before. He regretted that he’d ended a life, but if he had to do it all over again, he’d still pull the trigger. He’d save Sadie.

“By all accounts, the deceased was a cheat ’n abuser of one of our lady folk. However…” Masterson’s gaze narrowed, but his hands had yet to go anywhere near the pair of Colt revolvers resting in their silver-studded holsters. “Doling out punishment in Dodge is my business. So you’ll have to come with me. We need to discuss you…getting between me ’n my business.”

Noah glanced at Sadie. She was resting easy under his coat. “I’ll be back,” he promised her, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him. Then he rose to his feet and addressed Gertie and the doctor. “I want to know more about Sadie’s medicine.” A handful of strides brought him to the door and the lawman filling it.

Masterson stepped aside and gestured for him to go first. “Jus’ follow yer nose until you reach my office across the street.”

He knew what awaited him
across the street
—a sturdy brick building with bars on the windows.

When he paused on the jailhouse porch, Masterson snorted a laugh. “Don’t you think you’ve come too far to turn back?”

Noah glanced over his shoulder at the Star.

“Eyes to the future, boyo. My door’s open.” Masterson exhaled a long breath. “Didn’t have time to lock it after I heard yer gunshot.”

Inside the jail, a cell with its door wide open greeted Noah. So much for his future.

“Have a seat.” Masterson pointed to a chair on his right, then strolled over to the chair’s partner on the other side of a desk. He waited until they were both seated before he spoke. “Well, boyo—”

“Name’s Ballantyne.”

Elbows resting on the desk’s worn oak, fingers laced under his chin, Masterson appeared bored, as if he were at a Sunday social that had gone on too long. Noah wasn’t fooled. Masterson’s gaze was sharp as steel, assessing him. “Well, Mr. Ballantyne, it appears yer pretty handy with a gun.”

Anchoring his thumbs on his belt, Noah suppressed the urge to fidget and aimed for a casual tone. “They say you are as well. You made a name for yourself with that gunfight in Sweetwater.”

Masterson flicked his fingers. “That was Texas, this is Dodge. Difference is I’m the law here along with my brother ’n Wyatt Earp. Wyatt ’n us go a ways back. I met him in seventy-two hunting buffalo. So, if I shoot someone, no one’s gonna toss me in a cell, ’cause I’m the one wearing a badge ’n I’ve got friends looking out for me. Understand?”