Belle Gone Bad (2 page)

B
elle glanced up at Big Jim, tilting her head toward Mercy. “Is he always so bullheaded and cock-sure?”

Big Jim opened his mouth to respond, but he didn't get his words out quick enough.

“Any fool knows that attitude can earn a man a permanent trip to Boot Hill.” She tucked her thumbs under the worn leather of her gun-belt, knowing it was a provocative stance.

“Now, Belle, don't go giving Mercy a hard time.” Big Jim quickly looked in both directions and then leaned toward her. “Don't spread it around town, but he's got difficulties.”

“Difficulties!” She couldn't keep an exasperated sigh from escaping her lips. “Got his name on a wanted poster?”

“Worse,” Big Jim said.

“Got caught with another man's wife?”

“Worse yet.”

She looked at the stranger, judging him from head to toe. “Cat got your tongue?”

“It's none of your business.”

She rolled her eyes. “
Delaware Bend.
Nothing that goes on here would surprise me or anybody else. If a man or woman didn't have difficulties, they wouldn't be here.”

“This is different,” Big Jim said. “Special.”

“Right. Every last man I ever brought in thought he was special. That's why he got to rob, rustle, rape, or murder with impunity.” She twisted her lips in a mockery of a smile. “The Hangin' Judge and his jail, Hell on the Border, in Fort Smith shows them how special they are.”

“You've been on the trail too long.” Big Jim rubbed her shoulder with a large hand. “And you're grieving Tex's passing. You're too young to be so bitter.”

She shook her head, wondering if he could be right. She was tired and saddle sore, but bitter?

“You got a right, what with all you've lost.” Big Jim appeared sad. “But there's no need to take it out on a man 'cause you don't cotton to his line of work.”

Mercy held up his hands, as if in surrender. “Please understand that I have the greatest respect and admiration for women.”

“And that explains your so-called art?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes, it does. There's nothing more beautiful and precious and worth preserving than the face and form of a woman.”

“And sharing it?”

He gave her a sidelong glance with his gray eyes the color of storm clouds, and then he smiled like a naughty boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “It'd be a crying shame not to share so much beauty.”

And like a flash of lightning, she understood him.
Rogue.
She'd met his type before, although not nearly so smooth or talented. He was a handsome, silver-tongued devil who'd probably talked the most straightlaced ladies out of their unmentionables and featured them in his passionate art. They were no doubt mortified afterward, although she had to admit that some folks were simply born exhibitionists. Nevertheless, she ought to take Mercy to the Hangin' Judge for the dissemination of lewdness, but Judge Parker would probably throw her out of his courtroom for wasting his time.

She pulled off her hat and fanned her face, feeling hot and distressed even though they were past the worst of the summer heat and heading into fall's cooler weather. Something about this rogue set her teeth on edge. He made her feel more of everything that she was trying to suppress. Anger. Frustration. Loneliness.

It'd been a long time since she'd been with a man who set her on fire with his touch and treasured her every word and action. She bet this rogue knew how to make a woman feel all of those things while he felt nothing except his own lust, greed, and power. He came all tied up in a pretty package with a big red bow that beckoned a woman to untie it and find out exactly what was inside. Fortunately, she was made of sterner stuff. She'd much rather tie his hands behind his back with a long red ribbon than open his tantalizing package. And with that thought, she grew even hotter. What was it about this man that made her want to tie him up and toss him on the nearest horizontal surface?

She must have been out in the Sun too long or maybe starved for companionship. One thing she didn't need in her life was a rogue with an eye for the ladies or one who made her think lewd thoughts. Besides, she preferred a straight-talking lawman with a six-gun on his hip, not a rogue with a glib tongue and a paintbrush in his hand.

Still, he caught her eye, not as a bounty hunter but purely as a female. He had strong, muscular shoulders, chest, and arms that most likely came from sculpting wood, not wrestling bears. What particularly riveted her attention were his large, strong hands with long, artistic fingers. She could imagine that he depended on touch for his craft, so he'd bring that skill to exploring a woman's body.

His wavy auburn hair fell past the collar of his shirt and framed a strong, clean-shaven face. Prominent cheekbones, square jaw, and a dimple in the center of his chin made him handsome. He couldn't have been past thirty, but his eyes spoke of old wisdom. And ill health. He was too pale, too resigned, too lethargic. Big Jim was right. All was not right with this man.

He covered his difficulties well. He wore a pale, blue-and-white-striped silk shirt tucked into blue wool trousers with a dark blue brocade vest and leather boots with square toes and low heels. His clothing was of good quality, so he didn't lack for money. Still, he looked incomplete without a gun-belt and a six-shooter. She could only assume that an artist who stayed in town didn't need the protection of a personal sidearm. Yet a rogue might very well find himself in need of a revolver.

But she was giving Mercy more thought than necessary. It just went to show that Big Jim was probably right. She'd been way too long on the trail.

“I'll pay you to find Diana,” Mercy said. “She wouldn't disappear overnight. She's helping me.”

“And she's got friends here,” Big Jim added. “I doubt she'd just up and leave.”

“If it's true Mercy didn't do away with her and she didn't run away from him, she could still be taking a trip to visit friends or shopping in Bonham or Paris. In that case, there'd be no need to hire me or anybody else to find her. Give her a few days and she'll be back.”

Big Jim shook his head. “I doubt she'd leave Mercy high and dry.”

Belle felt a surge of irritating jealousy at the idea of a beautiful woman stripping naked for Mercy to draw or paint. “Is she posing for you?”

“No.” Mercy frowned at Big Jim and shook his head. “She's helping me with my difficulties.”

“And those are?”

“None of your business.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I've heard plenty. I doubt I'd be shocked by anything you have to say.”

“Go ahead and tell her,” Big Jim said. “She won't go blabbing her mouth.”

“She just needs to find Diana. She can't be far away.”

Belle gave an unladylike snort. “She could be deep into Indian Territory or way south of Dallas by now.”

“I guess you're right,” Mercy agreed.

“When was the last time anybody saw her?” Belle didn't want to be drawn into their problems. Yet life could be hard on a woman, especially an unwary one.

“Last night at Mama Lou's Café.” Mercy looked down the street in the direction of the restaurant.

“Did Diana say she was meeting somebody or going somewhere?”

“No,” Mercy said.

“Enemies?”

“No,” Big Jim said.

Belle rubbed the aching spot over her heart. Maybe she'd been too hasty in her first assessment. Something wasn't right with Mercy, as well as Diana. But that didn't mean she had to get involved with them.

“Trouble has a way of finding us no matter our druthers. I know you've got Tex and Hackett on your mind, but you can't help them no more. Diana's still alive,” Big Jim said.

“Who's Hackett?” Mercy asked.

Big Jim cleared his throat. “He was Belle's—”

“Don't say it!” She felt tears sting her eyes. She'd lost Hackett eighteen months ago and about a year ahead of losing Tex. She wished she could get over the heartache, but nothing eased the pain. She turned her back on Big Jim and Mercy so they wouldn't see her distress and think her weak.

“No need for him not to know,” Big Jim said gently. “Hackett Starling was Belle's intended. He was one of the finest Texas Rangers ever to grace this Earth.”

“What happened?” Mercy asked.

Belle whirled back around. “Bushwhacked! Just like Pa. And left to rot. Buzzards and coyotes got to him.” She rubbed the wood stock of the Colt .44 riding low on her hip. “I brought him back to the Bend and buried him.”

“That took a lot of strength and courage,” Mercy said.

“No. That took nothing. If I'd met up with him like we'd planned, I'd have been there for him when that coward came calling and he'd be alive today. Now I've got nothing to give him but justice.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and knew Big Jim was right.

“You weren't there for Tex or Hackett, but you can be there for Diana,” Big Jim said. “If I was in trouble, you're the one I'd want coming after me.”

“Please, think about it,” Mercy added.

Belle straightened her spine, pushing their entreaties aside. “I can't let my leads get any colder. Find somebody else.”

“I
never knew you to be hard-hearted.” Big Jim shook his head. “I'm disappointed in you. Tex would be, too.”

Mercy kept his mouth shut. Belle already disliked him. Anything he said might make her dig in her heels harder. Trouble was that she was getting under his skin. She was a fascinating lady. He wanted to strip her naked, show her all he knew about Free Love, and fill a canvas with her glory. But that was the man he used to be. Now he knew better than to reach for the sky.

“You could look for Diana while you hunt that bushwhacker,” Big Jim said.

Belle sighed, shaking her head.

“You figure Tex's killer is on the scout?” Big Jim asked.

“What does that mean?” Mercy knew he was playing with fire, but he still wanted her attention.

“It means a man is smart enough to live off the land and be protected by friends, family, or other outlaws.” She gazed north. “Maybe he's gone to ground in Indian Territory.”

“I'd be happy to sketch a likeness of Diana for you to show around, if you'd do that much for us,” Mercy said.

Belle frowned. “Something big is eluding me, but for the life of me, I can't see it or feel it or find it.”

“That's not like you,” Big Jim said.

“I know.” She glanced at Mercy. “Another person added to this mix most likely will confuse it even more. I prefer not to take that chance.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Was that an apology, or at least an explanation? Maybe she wasn't as tough as she wanted him to believe. On the other hand, it seemed an odd remark. He'd expect a Spiritualist to say something along those lines, but not a bounty hunter.

He winced as he thought of Spiritualism and everything he'd left back East. He'd grown up in the movement and among those who relied on senses not of the mundane. He felt a chill on the back of his neck, not unlike what he'd felt when a medium or trance speaker connected with the Beyond. Was Belle more than she appeared to be or in more trouble than she could imagine?

He felt a sudden urge to protect her from forces that might mean her ill. Even a crack shot with a Winchester would be hard pressed to hold her own against a power she couldn't see. But he was a shadow of his former self. Whatever she needed, he couldn't give it any more than she would give him what he needed now.

“Hey,” Big Jim said. “Here comes Mama Lou. She's in an all-fired hurry.”

Surprised, Mercy turned to look at the pleasingly plump blonde lady dressed in blue calico with a big red apron tied around her middle. “What do you suppose got her out of her café at this time of day?”

“Belle!” Mama Lou called as she drew closer, heels clicking fast against the boardwalk. “You're just the g'hal I need to see.”

“What do you suppose she wants?” Belle asked.

“I doubt if it's a taste-tester,” Big Jim said. “Manny does that job, if it needs doing.”

Mama Lou came to a stop, putting a hand to her heaving bosom. “Diana didn't come to work today.”

“We know she's missing,” Mercy said. “We're trying to get Belle to look for her. I'm willing to pay.”

“Trying? Is that all?” Mama Lou focused on Belle. “Nobody knows this but me. I wouldn't air Diana's dirty laundry except in dire circumstances.”

“What do you mean?” Belle asked.

“First, you three are not to breathe a word of this.” She caught her breath. “Diana wouldn't leave the Bend. She's hiding out here. We thought she was safe.”

“From a man?” Belle asked.

Mercy felt that chill again. Diana was in trouble. She needed his help as much as he needed hers, but the best he could do was send Belle.

“Yes!” Mama Lou wrung her hands. “I don't know much. She didn't think it was safe to tell me. But he's rich and powerful.”

“Do you suppose he kidnapped her or sent outlaws?” Mercy asked.

“I doubt he'd do his own dirty work,” Mama Lou said.

“Hold up.” Belle raised a hand, palm outward. “We don't know anything for sure. Maybe Diana wasn't taken from the Bend against her will. Maybe she wanted to go back to her luxurious life.”

“No!” Mama Lou said. “You don't understand.”

“Yes, I do. Good women go back to bad men all the time.”

“She wouldn't return. She barely escaped. She thought she should keep on the move, but I persuaded her that the Bend was a safe place. Now I feel so guilty.”

Big Jim patted Mama Lou's shoulder. “No cause to be hard on yourself. She was safe here. Something changed, or she'd still be here.”

“Big Jim's right. Maybe that man decided he wanted her back,” Mercy said.

“And maybe she's just shopping in Bonham,” Belle added.

Mama Lou put her hands on her hips. “Are you telling me that you don't believe us?”

“I'm saying that we don't know anything for sure.”

“Has anybody else seen Diana today?” Big Jim asked.

“No,” Mama Lou said. “Manny asked around, but not a soul has seen hide nor hair of her.”

“She must have left in the night,” Mercy said.

“Belle, please. You can track Diana. I fear if we don't find her soon, we'll never get her back or she'll die trying to escape that man.” Mama Lou twisted her apron between her hands.

“Belle has already turned us down,” Mercy said.

“Did you explain that Diana is helping you?”

“Sort of.”

“Did you tell her that every day you lose you're a little closer to the grave?”

“Not exactly.”

“Tex and Hackett are long gone.” Mama Lou raised her chin.

“Belle, you can still save Diana and Mercy. Help us.”

Belle sighed as she glanced around the group. “I may live to regret this, but I'll see if I can pick up her trail.”

“Thank you.” Mama Lou smiled. “Mercy, pack your saddlebags. You're going with her.”

“What!” Belle gasped.

“I can't go.” Mercy didn't think he could stand a hard ride with a woman like Belle. “I've got too much art to finish here.”

“And I'm not taking a tenderfoot with me,” Belle added.

“You can and you will.” Mama Lou put her hands on her hips again. “Mercy's getting weaker by the day. The quicker you get him to Diana, the quicker she can heal him.”

“Is she a doctor?” Belle asked.

“She's the kind of doctor Mercy needs.”

“We can't lose him,” Big Jim said. “He's our friend. Besides, he's got too many paintings to finish for the Bend.”

“When did Delaware Bend become the art capital of Texas?” Belle asked.

“You've missed out on a lot,” Mama Lou said.

“The Red River Saloon is more famous than ever,” Big Jim explained. “Temperance Tempest marched here with the Texas Society for the Promotion of Temperance. She chopped my bar right through Lulu's belly button. Folks come from far and wide to see it.”

“I came back to repair the bar,” Mercy explained.

“And he's painting a portrait of Temperance Tempest to hang over my bar,” Big Jim added.

“And one to put in the Lone Star Hotel's Temperance Tempest Room,” Mama Lou said. “And I want a painting for my café.”

“I guess I did miss out on a lot.” Belle glanced at Mercy. “Did you fix the bar?”

“I did.” Mercy shook his head. “But that brought on a host of other problems.”

“Dang fools!” Big Jim turned toward his saloon. “You can look at how Mercy fixed the bar while he packs up his art supplies.”

“I don't want to see it,” Belle said.

“I'm not leaving the Bend,” Mercy added.

Mama Lou pointed across the street at Manny's Livery Stable. “Mercy, stop being ornery. You've got no choice and you know it. You need horses.”

Mercy caught Belle's eye. “She's right, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“I'll give it forty-eight hours,” Belle agreed.

“Double that and you've got a deal.” Big Jim held out his hand.

Belle shook it. “But I want everybody to understand that I'm doing a favor for old friends. I don't know Mercy. If he keeps up with me, okay. If not, he gets left behind.”

Mercy glared at her. “If Belle makes my life miserable, the next painting you see will be one of her. And it'll be suitable for the finest house on Fort Smith's Bordello Row.”