Bandit's Hope (33 page)

"Of course."

"How many days?"

"Two, but Mr. Betts said they might stay longer." She caught his arm. "What’s this about? I’ve never seen you this way."

"Don’t trust them, Mariah. I’ve got a bad feeling."

She smiled. "Now you sound like Otis. They’re just guests, Tiller. In a few days they’ll be moving on."

He drew a deep breath. "Let’s hope it’s a short visit."

Mariah took a step closer. "Are you sure that’s what’s bothering you? I sense you’re angry with me." She reached to finger a button on his shirt. "I’ve only acted the way I have because I had to. But you should know—"

Tiller brushed her hand away and stepped back.

Pain glazed her eyes until Joe’s voice growled behind her. "Mariah, come inside. The guests are fed; now it’s time to feed me."

"Coming, Uncle." She whirled away, slipping past Joe at the door.

He glared a warning at Tiller.

Smiling brightly, Tiller raised his chin and winked. "Save me some mashed potatoes, Uncle Joe."

His craggy face stiff with rage, Joe spun on his heel and followed Mariah.

Sheki bobbed his head, and Tiller laughed and patted his neck. "You liked that, didn’t you, boy? I really put the old man in his place." The thing was he shouldn’t have. Mariah wouldn’t approve, especially after Joe had just caught them together.

Tiller’s desperate sense of swimming upstream had returned. Now with Hade and Nathan showing up …

He smoothed his hand along the horse’s soft muzzle. "Ah, Sheki. I can’t just give up and run. She’s too important."

"Well, well."

Tiller’s head swiveled to watch Nathan saunter toward him.

"You’re slipping, Tiller boy. With that pretty little thing in the house, you’re out here snuggled up to a horse?"

Tiller nodded toward the river. "That was you the other day, wasn’t it? Across the Pearl."

Nathan grinned and snapped a salute. "That hair of yours stuck out like a red flag atop this roof."

Dread knotting his stomach, Tiller leaned against the stall while Hade and Sonny strolled up behind Nathan.

Sonny ran up and slapped his arm, a huge grin on his face. "I knew we’d find you! Mississippi ain’t big enough to hide you from us."

Tiller scowled. "Keep your voice down."

Hade watched him with admiration shining in his eyes. "This is some arrangement you fell into. What’s your angle?"

"There’s no angle. Just taking some time away."

Hade sneered. "Come on, now. This is old Hade you’re talking to. If you want to keep the profits to yourself, go ahead, but at least fill us in."

Nathan spat in the straw at his feet. "I think it’s the girl."

"Whooee!" Sonny cried. "She sure is a looker."

"Nah." A lewd smile curled Hade’s lips. "Tiller has his pick of the gals. There’s something else he’s after."

Forcing himself to relax, Tiller crossed his ankles. "More to the point, what are you boys after? What’s the reason for pretending you don’t know me?"

With a rowdy laugh, Hade slapped him on the back. "Just having a little fun with you. Besides, we’re not here to throw a polecat at your picnic." He tightened his arm around Tiller’s neck. "We were starting to miss having you around is all."

Sonny sniffed and hauled up his pants. "Hadn’t been the same in camp without you and your stories. I suppose you’ve missed us, too. Ain’t that right, Tiller?"

"After all," Hade continued, "I’ve been like a daddy to you." He reached for Nathan, pulling him into a clumsy three-way hug. "And old Nate has been like your elder brother." He gave them both hearty pats on the back. "I reckon we’ve been the closest thing you’ve ever had to a family."

No doubt about it. Hade was up to something.

It didn’t take long to flush it out. "I don’t mean to sound impatient"—he bumped heads with Tiller—"but how long will it take you to fleece this lamb and come home to our loving arms?"

A rock in the pit of his stomach, Tiller laughed softly and casually drew away. "What if I said I may not be coming back?"

Hade’s gleeful eyes hardened to glassy stones. "Well, that won’t do, will it?" His fatherly grip became a vise around Tiller’s neck. "Not by a jugful. I’ve lost a lot of revenue since you left, McRae." His rattled exhalation, reeking of roast beef and raw onion, warmed Tiller’s cheek. "An unfortunate turn I’m willing to forgive if you’ll stop all this foolishness and come back to the camp."

Struggling to stay calm, Tiller steadied his voice. "How have I cost you money?"

Hade gave a breathy laugh. "Look around at these ugly mugs. Would you stop on the road to have a friendly chat with one of us?"

Tiller tightened his jaw. "I’d start shooting and ask questions later."

Loosening his hold, Hade chuckled. "Then you see my problem." He gripped Tiller’s chin and shook it. "This pretty-boy face is worth a gold mine."

Nathan, quiet until now, moved closer to the stall. Smoothing Sheki’s mane, he cleared his throat. "Look, Hade … if Tiller wants out, there’s really no way to make him stay. He’ll just hang up the fiddle again, first chance he gets." He glanced over his shoulder. "Besides, it ain’t smart to place all our bets on one man." He grinned at Tiller. "Little brother here won’t always be good-looking."

Hade frowned. "So, I should just let our meal ticket walk out?" He shook his head. "No sir."

Nate drew himself up and strutted a few paces. "I’ve been doing some pondering. I think it’s time we found us a new game. The word’s out on the Trace. Folks are leery. Trigger-happy."

He turned. "If we’re going to risk getting filled with lead, it’s time we thought bigger." His eyes glowed. "Richer."

Hade joined him near Sheki. "Keep talking."

"Boss, I’m thinking banks … trains. Real jobs yielding big money."

Sonny’s eyes bugged. "Like the James brothers?"

Nathan pointed. "Exactly like the James brothers."

Tiller frowned. "May I remind you that Jesse was shot dead two months ago?"

Greedily rubbing his chin, Hade ignored him. "I think this merits more discussion. How about we grab a cup of coffee and meet around the fire in the parlor to draw up some plans."

Sonny rubbed his stomach. "I’m hankering for another piece of that fine apple pie."

Nathan nodded at the door. "You two go on but save me a slice. I’ll be right along."

Tiller drew a deep cleansing breath as Hade and Sonny left the barn. His heart filled with warmth for Nathan, and he shot him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Nate."

Nathan waved him off. "Nothing to it."

"Why’d you step out like that for me?"

Nate glanced up, his eyes shimmering in the dim light. "I suppose I’m trying to make amends for how I’ve messed up your life." He offered a wry laugh. "Including telling Hade where I found you."

"Then why did you?"

Nathan crossed to where Tiller stood and chucked him on the chin. "I looked for you because I missed you. I wanted you riding with us again. You’re the only family I have left."

"And now you’ve changed your mind?"

"You changed it for me. When I saw you, saw the way that pretty gal looks at you, I knew you were happy."

They shared a long look; then Tiller grinned and swatted his arm. "I’ll miss you, pardner."

"Not for long. I’ll be stopping by."

Tiller frowned. "Unless you find yourself chained to Hade and Sonny on a Mississippi prison farm. Or worse, wind up like Jesse James."

He gripped Nathan’s arm. "Stay here, Nate. Mariah won’t mind, and we could use the extra hands."

Nathan gazed around the barn. "Trade my carefree life on the road for this?" He shook his head. "Tilling soil and pitching hay won’t cut it for me, I’m afraid."

Staring at his feet, Tiller nodded. "Be careful, won’t you?"

Nathan flicked the brim of Tiller’s hat—his until Tiller snatched it from his head the day he left. "Nice headgear. Keep it free of holes, won’t you?" At the door, he turned. "I’ll try to get those two to leave as soon as possible. Until then, keep a close watch on them."

Tiller nodded. "You can count on it."

THIRTY-SEVEN

H
ade, Sonny, and Nathan huddled around the settee hatching dastardly schemes until suppertime. Pretty worked up about their new plans, they gobbled Mariah’s soup and corn cakes like pigs on slop and hustled right back to the parlor.

Tiller loathed knowing the gang was sowing the seeds of a crime spree around Mariah’s cozy hearth, but if it took them away from the inn, he’d have to live with it for now.

His heart soared at how God had used Nathan to rescue him from Hade’s clutches. He longed to do the same for Nate, but one man couldn’t force his viewpoint on another. The life Tiller found empty and degrading, Nate’s reckless nature seemed to feed on. Tiller would chose pitching hay over robbing banks any day.

Seated at the kitchen table playing a game of Dr. Busby with Mariah and Miss Vee, he tried not to focus on the excited voices floating down the hall. Thankfully, Otis slept like the dead, but he prayed the ruckus wouldn’t disturb him. The last thing he needed was Otis awake, itching to socialize with the new guests.

Having Otis’s attackers in the same house set Tiller’s nerves on edge. He’d carefully avoided mentioning to them who Otis was and kept them away from the old man’s room by telling them he was sick. If Hade thought Otis might recognize him, he’d kill him with less remorse than swatting a fly.

Miss Vee leaned across the table, interrupting his grim thoughts. "Mariah, I need the Dairymaid’s Lover."

She pulled the card from her hand and slid it across to her. "You’re good, Miss Vee."

"Okay …" Miss Vee touched her chin. "How about Dr. Busby’s Wife?"

Mariah shook her head. "Your luck just ran out."

"Oh, pooh. All right, it’s your turn then."

The twinkle in Mariah’s brown eyes gave her away—she remembered the last card Tiller had lured from Miss Vee.

Grinning, she held out her hand. "Mr. Ninnycometwitch, if you please."

He passed it to her, along with a little squeeze to her pinkie finger.

Blushing, she tapped his shin with her toe. "I’ll just take Spade the Gardener, too."

Miss Vee squealed and bounced in her chair. "Watch her, Tiller. She’s trying to win this game." Sobering, she rested her chin on her hands and stared over Tiller’s shoulder. "I wish John Coffee was here. He loves to play Dr. Busby."

Sadness dropped like a tasseled shade over Mariah’s smile.

Tiller hurried to change the subject. "Where’s Joe tonight?"

She scrunched her face. "Won’t you ever call him anything but Joe?"

He quirked his mouth. "I have no plans in that direction."

Mariah swatted his arm with her cards. "Why not? You know it frustrates him."

"Well, it shouldn’t. What sort of name is ‘I’m angry’ for a grown man? Suppose I took a name based on how I felt?"

"I see your point." She batted her lashes. "’I’m hungry’ doesn’t suit you."

Beaming, he returned her swat. "So where is Mr. Mad?"

"Playing cards and drinking ale with Tobias. He said not to wait up."

Miss Vee snorted. "I doubt they’re playing Dr. Busby."

They shared a laugh, cut short by the downstairs clock striking the ten o’clock hour.

Mariah stretched and yawned. "Gracious, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I forgot how hard it is to chase after a houseful of guests."

Miss Vee stood to put the kettle on. "I’ll make those noisy yahoos a pot of my chamomile tea. Maybe it’ll put them to sleep. Or at least calm them down before they wake Otis."

By the time Mariah won the hand of Dr. Busby, Miss Vee had three cups of tea sweetened and spiced, foaming over on a silver serving tray. She handed it to Tiller with a wink. "I hope this works. Take it in for me, will you?"

The men in the parlor had wound down a bit. Sonny sat in Otis’s chair, stretching his legs toward the fire. Hade slumped in the seat beside him, chewing a fat cigar. Nathan had slipped off his boots and reclined on the settee, his stocking feet hanging off the end.

"Well, look here," Hade said. "Tiller, you make a pretty little maid."

Sonny laughed wildly, and the other two grinned.

"I’d curtsy," Tiller said, "but then I might spill your tea."

More rowdy laughter from Sonny.

Nathan made a face. "Tea? Has it got whiskey in it?"

Tiller handed him a cup. "You’ll think it did, once it hits your belly. Drink this, and you’ll sleep like a man with no conscience."

Nate grinned. "By cracker, I’d better have me a double portion."

Mariah swept in, beautiful by firelight in a red dress cinched tight at the waist. Everything else forgotten, the men’s hungry eyes tracked her across the room. "Don’t let me disturb you, gentlemen. I won’t be a minute. I just need my ledger."

Tiller had no inkling of what she was about to do, or he’d have found a way to stop her. Caught up in her charms himself, he stared like a witless boy while she swung open the door of her safe, revealing the bulging leather bag of gold coins.

Whirling, he watched Hade’s slant-eyed desire turn to wide-eyed greed.

Hurrying to Mariah, Tiller slid his arms around her waist and drew her upright, slamming the safe with the toe of his boot.

Guileless, trusting, she stared at him. "Tiller? What in the world?"

"Just lending a hand."

Blushing, glancing at the men, she gave him a scathing look and shook off his hands. "Well, thank you, but I can manage." Snatching a pen from her desk, she tucked the ledger under her arm and nodded around the room. "I’ll bid you all a good night. Don’t forget, breakfast promptly at six. If you’re not seated around the table by then, you stand a fair chance of going without."

Tiller followed her to the foot of the stairs. "Where are you going?"

"To bed, if you must know," she whispered. "What’s come over you?"

He glanced toward the safe. Surely she had a key somewhere. "I need to speak to you."

"In the morning, if you don’t mind. I’m tired. Now, good night."

The room crackled with strain, waiting for her footsteps to reach the top of the stairs and down the hall. When her bedroom door closed, Tiller spun. Stalking to stand in front of them, he pointed at the safe. "Forget you ever saw that, you hear?"