Deborah Camp (5 page)

“Miss Adele, might I have a moment?” The man’s long legs swallowed the distance between them, and he stood in front of Adele and Reno, effectively blocking their path. He laid one hand on his black vest in the region of his heart and fashioned an expression of regret. “I am so terribly sorry for this unfortunate altercation on the morning of your wedding.”

His voice was high and slightly nasal, at odds with
his appearance. Indian blood ran in this man’s veins, Reno noted, Cheyenne and possibly some other tribe. He would have been handsome if not for his pitted complexion. His cheeks looked as if they’d been hit by buckshot. As he directed his attention to Reno, his hand moved to the butt of the Peacemaker in his holster. “This must be the lucky man.” He held out his other hand. “I’m Taylor Terrapin, owner of the Black Knight and the Red Queen and a great admirer of your bride.”

Reno shook his hand. Terrapin squeezed harder than was necessary, but Reno refused to engage in such childish comeuppance. Besides, he was busy trying to place Terrapin. He’d seen him before somewhere. Deadwood, maybe? Lewis would remember. Lewis Fields, his business partner, had a mind like a steel trap. All Reno had to go on was a feeling that Terrapin was like a plague. Wherever he went, people died.

“Reno Gold. Glad to meet you, or have we met before? I seem to recall—”

“Doubtful, doubtful,” Terrapin interrupted, switching his focus back to Adele. “Don’t you look ravishing this morning. I must say, the bachelors in this town are in mourning, Miss Adele, what with you taking yourself out of circulation. We had all harbored secret dreams that you would choose one of us. Now we have only Miss Sally to set our hopes on.”

Adele seemed unaffected by his compliments. “Are you going to remove that dead man from the street any time soon, Mr. Terrapin?”

“Of course, of course!” He pursed his lips and leaned closer. Reno suspected Terrapin was inhaling
the bouquet of Adele’s perfumed skin, and he didn’t like that one little bit. “As I said, I’m sorry for the ruckus. When I looked outside and saw you leaving the church, well, my heart went out to you. Such an unpleasant business on your wedding day.” He made a
tsk-tsk
sound.

“Your heart should go out to the man who was murdered for nothing but sport,” Adele said, her words falling like chipped ice. “Excuse us.” She arched a brow, and her frosty stare forced Terrapin to step aside.

Smiling, Reno shook his head as he allowed himself to be led away. “Is there anyone in this town you like, Dellie?”

She looked startled by his question. “Of course. There are many people here who are dear to me.”

“Name one.”

“Sally.”

“Miss Sally,” he said, remembering Terrapin mentioning the woman. “Who is she? Does she work for you?” He had no sooner asked the question than he spotted a small woman standing at the window of the depot dining room. He knew her. “Not Sally Baldridge!”

“Yes. Didn’t I mention in my letter that Sally had moved here to work with me?”

“No, you didn’t.” He sent her a swift glance, wondering if that omission had been by design. He and Sally had never gotten along.

“After Win died, Sally was so unhappy. I invited her to join me and she accepted.”

“How does she feel about you marrying me?”

Adele shrugged. “Why should that matter?”

Reno set his jaw and opened the restaurant’s front door. Adele moved quickly to her living quarters. She tugged off her gloves and swept off her hat, then glanced his way.

“I’m going to change into my work dress. You might want to wear something more practical yourself.”

He ran a hand down his silvery satin vest and gray suit coat. “Why don’t we take a few minutes to talk about our life together, Dellie?”

She turned her back on him, nervous as a cat. “I can’t right now. I …” Her gaze flew to the doorway, where Sally stood. “Oh, Sally, come in. Say hello to Reno. I was telling him that we must change into our work clothes. We have a full day ahead of us. Are the trains running on time?”

“Yes,” Sally said, stealing a glance at Reno. “Hello, Reno. It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” he agreed, just as careful as Sally not to engage in falsehood or insincerity. She was still pretty and small, like a life-sized doll. But her face was fuller, as were her hips, and her dark hair was not as thick and glossy as it had been when she was a girl. Her brown eyes, always melancholy, were now even more lackluster. Life had been hard on Sally Baldridge, doling out too much disappointment and unhappiness to a girl who had delighted in Southern charms and full dance cards.

“I heard gunfire,” Sally said, twisting a handkerchief between her small hands.

“Yes, another saloon brawl,” Adele told her. “Terrapin apologized for it happening right after our wedding.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Nice?” Adele stared at Sally. “Nice and Terrapin are strangers. He makes my skin crawl, that one. I was telling Reno how Terrapin rules this town with an iron fist, a keg of whiskey, and a stable of prostitutes.”

“You can’t fault him for being a shrewd businessman. He’s merely providing the town with what it wants.”

Reno studied Sally and saw an opportunist. That hadn’t changed about her. Sally had always been drawn instinctively to the people she thought could help her social status or put coins in her pocket.

Adele propped her fists at her waist. “Sally, how can you compliment that skunk? He preys on weaknesses, and you admire that?”

Sally waved her handkerchief like a flag of surrender. “I’m not going to fuss and fume. I only came to warn you that Mrs. Ball is being impertinent again. We had a few slices of pie left from yesterday, so she didn’t bake any today.”

“God’s nightgown,” Adele muttered, reaching back to unbutton her dress while she headed for her bedroom. “That woman! Why must she be so vexing?”

With Adele out of the room, and finding herself alone with Reno, Sally twisted the handkerchief again and edged toward the door.

“I have to get back to the restaurant,” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Who is Mrs. Ball?”

“The cook. She’s a trial.”

“Why doesn’t someone fire her?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“I’m surprised to find you here, Sally Ann. I
thought you’d stay in Kansas with your folks.”

“And I thought I’d seen the last of you back in Kansas. Why did you do this to Dellie?”

“I didn’t do anything to Dellie she didn’t want done.”

“You’re a scavenger,” Sally hissed. “A gold digger.”

“And you’re an uppity little hypocrite.”

Sally gasped and hurried from his sight.

When Reno entered the restaurant after changing into black trousers and a boiled shirt, he was confronted by Adele, who came flying out of the kitchen, her face flushed and tears standing in her eyes.

Sally stepped around the counter toward her. “What happened? What did she say?”

Adele released a quick breath. “She won’t bake any pies today.”

“But we only have three slices of apple left and one of pumpkin. Why is she doing this?”

“Why does she do anything?”

Reno leaned against the counter, enjoying the small drama. “Who are you talking about?”

“Minnie Ball, the cook.” Adele sat wearily in the closest chair. “She is quite obstinate, and I have a difficult time handling her.”

Reno strode into the kitchen, curious to meet someone Dellie couldn’t intimidate or cajole. The dog-faced woman was standing before a cooking stove, stirring a kettle of soup. She turned and glared at him. Reno resisted the impulse to growl at her. So this was his apparition, his bad dream.

“I don’t allow no men in my kitchen. Git!” She tasted the soup and added salt.

Reno moved closer. “You were wrong,” he told her, keeping his voice low and his tone modulated. “She
did
marry my sorry ass.”

Minnie Ball set the soup ladle aside and turned to face him. She planted her big fists on the long wooden table between them and leaned on them. “What do you want?”

“I want you to obey your boss lady and bake some pies.”

She gave a
hurrumph
and shook her head, making the folds of skin on her face and neck jiggle. “I done told her I ain’t baking nothin’ today. They can eat them leftovers from yesterday. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with them.”

“No, but there are only two or three slices, and you know there will be more customers than that wanting dessert.”

“Wanting and getting ain’t the same, I reckon.” She chuckled. That sound alone raised Reno’s hackles.

This unpleasant bully had frustrated Dellie for the last time, and Reno meant to have the last laugh on her.

“Bake the pies or clear out.”

She widened her piggish eyes. “Who says? Says you? You ain’t nobody to me.”

“I’m the husband, and that makes me your boss. Now bake the pies or hit the street.”

“You firing me?” she challenged.

“That’s right. I’m firing your sorry ass.”

She removed her apron and slapped it down on the
table. “She ain’t gonna like this. She’ll be begging for me to come back afore sundown.”

He nodded toward the back door. “You leaving, or do I have to toss you out?”

She made a face that would have scared the Devil, picked up her purse, and waddled out the back door. Reno went to the stove and tasted the soup. It was vegetable soup with too many onions and not enough carrots and potatoes.

Adele pushed open the swinging door and glanced around. “Where’s Mrs. Ball?”

“Gone.” Reno faced her. “I did what you should have done. I fired her.”

Adele’s lips moved, but no sound emerged.

“That’s right. I fired her,” he repeated. “She’s an insolent, foul-mouthed hag and not even a very good cook, if this soup is any indication.”

“And who do you think will cook for our customers?” Adele demanded.

“You can find someone to replace her. This is a sizable town. I’m sure you can locate a woman who needs the work.”

“Oh, you’re sure of that?”

“Yes.”

She folded her arms and tapped one foot. “Then by all means, go get one.”

“You mean … you want me to—?”

“Yes, and have her here before the dinner trade starts.”

“Be serious. I can’t hire someone that soon.”

“Then put on an apron and start cooking.” She turned and started to leave, but stopped and faced him again, her expression stern, but her eyes revealing
a glint of mischief. “For your sake I hope your efforts are satisfactory. You’ve seen how the men in this town handle differences of opinion.” She snatched up the apron Minnie Ball had taken off and tossed it to him. “Better strap a gun on along with that. I’d hate to be made a widow over an unsavory bowl of stew.”

T
he Black Knight Saloon beckoned like a Siren. Reno let his long legs carry him from the foreign soil of the depot restaurant to the familiar oasis of the saloon. Inside all was quiet, save for the tinkling of glass as the barkeep shined and stacked jiggers. The bartender nodded, and mote-filled sunlight reflected off the top of his bald head.

The main room was huge. It was not unlike most of the saloons Reno had frequented, with its staircase crawling up the back wall and its bar stretching in front of a mirror that reflected the entire room. A bad oil painting of a naked lady adorned one wall. Tables and chairs took up the rest of the area, along with a piano and strategically placed spittoons.

The place smelled of linseed oil, tobacco, and beer. Reno inhaled the mixture of aromas and felt right at home. He strode to the bar and slapped a coin onto its surface.

“Whiskey, please.”

“Yes, sir.” The bartender poured him a measure. “You’re new in town.”

“Yes, I’m Reno Gold. I married Adele Bishop this morning.”

The man raised his thick, black brows and shook Reno’s hand. “That so? You’re the one, huh?”

“I’m him. Fill me up one more time.”

The barkeep obliged with a smile. “My name’s Hector. You’re not gonna get drunk, are you? You should be tangled in the sheets with your bride right now.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more, but my bride is busy running that damned restaurant.”

That restaurant was quickly becoming the bane of his existence. Dellie was married to the place and expected him to devote his life to it as well.

She could expect all she wanted, he thought crossly. He wasn’t going to step into Minnie Ball’s place and labor over a hot stove, no matter what Dellie said. If she thought she could order him around as she did the women who worked for her, she was in for a surprise. She had it all planned. She would change him, whip him into shape. But he had a scheme of his own. Reno meant to change her back into the sweet, inspiring girl she’d been in Kansas.

His immediate task, however, was to make himself scarce until the meals were served and the restaurant was closed for the day, because he wasn’t about to become the cook and bottle washer.

Movement caught his eye. He turned to see two women standing in the shadows near the piano. “Hello, ladies. You aren’t hiding from me, are you?”

“No. We ain’t hiding.” The older, broader one stepped forward. “We’re just waiting for an invitation.”

Reno motioned them forward. “Come on, then.
You’re invited to share a drink with me. Line them up, Hector.” Reno laid a bill on the counter. “That ought to keep the whiskey flowing.”

“Yes, sir.” The bartender seized the money and set two more jiggers on the counter. “This here is Deadeye Doris and Little Nugget.”

“Gold.” Reno grinned at the women. “Reno Gold.”

The younger female stepped into the sunlight. Reno was struck by her youth. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, he figured, and she had a pretty, almost angelic face. Her pale blond hair was fine and shimmered like gold dust. Her eyes, light brown and widely spaced, sparkled with curiosity and zest. Her companion, older and wiser, smiled with jaded affability.

“I’m Little Nugget,” the blonde said.

“Then you’re Dead-eye Doris,” Reno said to the other woman, noticing as she approached that one of her eyes was blue and one dark brown. Her smile, he also noticed, wasn’t just jaded; it was slightly sad. But then, who wouldn’t be sad, working in a saloon, past her prime. She probably had trouble competing with the young ones like Little Nugget.