Dashing Druid (Texas Druids) (32 page)

Colter took pity on him. “
Steers,
son. You know, bulls that ain’t bulls no more.” Picking up his table knife, he grinned and made a suggestive slicing motion.

“Oh!” Zoltan turned scarlet. Then he, too, burst out laughing as he finally got the joke.

Once they’d all subsided, Colter inquired, “You up here sightseeing, Miss Crawford?”

“No, I’m looking for a friend of mine.” Lil glanced around the table. “He’s a miner. His name’s Tye Devlin. Any of you know him?”

Samuels shot her a surprised look. “Shoot, I know Devlin,” he muttered around a mouthful of food.

“You do?” Lil’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She leaned across the table, relief making her giddy. “Have you seen him lately?”

He swallowed and nodded. “Sure did, just the other day.”

She dropped her fork, and it struck her plate. “Where?” she cried, oblivious to the startled gazes trained upon her.

The big miner gulped and wiped his mouth. “I ran into him over at Clark’s Livery Stable. He was renting a horse, getting ready to head up to Silver Plume. I sure was surprised to see him, too. I didn’t think he’d ever return to these parts after that cave-in he was caught in last year up at the Silver Angel.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Colter said. “He was partners with a Cousin Jack. Uh, I mean a Cornishman, ma’am,” he explained for Lil’s benefit. “And that was real strange because the Irish don’t mix with the Cornish most times. Anyhow, your friend’s partner got himself killed in that cave-in.”

“Right, and Devlin damn near died, too, before they dug him out,” Samuels added. “As I recall, he came out of it with a busted wing and never went back down into the mine. He just packed up and left after his pard’s funeral.”

Lil had heard all she needed to hear. She shoved back her chair and started to rise. “I have to get up there to that town. To Silver Plume. Fast.”

“Not tonight, you’re not,” Kate Ennis said sternly. “You’d break your neck or tumble into the creek and drown. There’s a coach up to the Plume in the morning. You’ll have to wait ’til then.”

The men agreed; then Aunt Kate added a convincing argument.

“Besides, you look all in, dear. Wouldn’t you rather get a night’s sleep before you meet your young man?”

Lil slumped back in her chair, sighing glumly. The woman was right, much as she hated to admit it. Her body demanded rest, and she didn’t want to face Tye when she was falling-down tired. She’d need all her wits about her if she was going to talk sense into him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“
Lookin
’ for company, sweetness?” a voice rasped in Lil’s ear, competing with a roomful of raucous sounds. It wasn’t yet noon, but the saloons of Silver Plume were packed with off-duty miners.

“Not again,” Lil muttered in disgust. How many times had she heard the same tiresome words? Couldn’t men think of anything else to say?

Anxious to question the busy barkeep, she had ignored the men’s drunken catcalls when she walked in, but she couldn’t ignore the face leering at her now. The face belonged to a short man with a dented brown bowler and yellow teeth. He’d walked up beside her at the bar and was grinning like a drunken clown. Before she could do more than scowl at him, he patted her fanny.

“Don’t touch me!” she exploded. She gave him a hard shove, and he stumbled backward, cursing, while her hand dove into her reticule. Pulling out her trusty Colt, she leveled it at him.

The saloon went silent while the offensive miner blinked and stared at Lil as if she’d just sprouted horns. Like most others in the place, he wore a dirty flannel shirt and canvas pants held up by leather suspenders. Under his beat-up bowler sprouted tight, carrot-orange curls. Anger contorted his freckled, whiskey-flushed face.

“Here now, don’t be
pointin
’ that thing at me, woman!” he bellowed in a brogue thicker than Tye’s.
“And me only
wishin
’ to buy
yez
a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink or anything else from you, or from any man in this joint.”

“Then what the
de’il
are ye
doin
’ in here, ye shameless trollop?” he growled, glaring at her indignantly, fists on his hips.

Lil ground her teeth, wanting to tell him it was none of his damn business, but that wouldn’t get her the help she needed. Silver Plume had nine saloons – she’d counted them – lined up in a row along
Main Street
. Knowing they’d be the quickest source of information, she’d headed straight for the first one after stepping off the stage. So far she’d learned Tye had hit town three days ago, but she didn’t know if he was still here, and if so, where to find him.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” she snapped loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “His name is –”

“Tye Devlin,” a calm male voice finished for her.

Startled, Lil turned her head to stare at the speaker. He stood just inside the bat-wing doors, studying her. Dressed in store-bought clothes – a striped shirt, gray trousers, and a vest and tie – he was of medium height, with a strong build, fair hair, and a pleasant face.

“Devlin!” the carrot-topped miner parroted. “Well, why didn’t ye say so, colleen? If I’d known ye were the black Irish’s,
er
, friend, I’d not have laid a hand on
ye
, I swear.” His voice held more than a hint of fear.

“If you’d given me a chance, I
would
have said so,” Lil gritted, lowering her gun.

Carrot-top cleared his throat. “Oh, aye, and sorry I am for that, mum,” he said, touching his hat to her. With that he retreated to a table in the corner, where three other men sat.

Speculative remarks buzzed around Lil, but she paid no attention. Slipping her pistol back into her reticule, she kept hold of it for caution’s sake as the newcomer approached.

“No need to worry, nobody will bother you now,” he said, humor in his voice and pale blue eyes. Only an inch or two taller than Lil, he seemed bigger close up thanks to the impressive bulge of muscles beneath his Sunday-go-to-meeting shirt.

“How come you’re so sure of that?” she asked.

He laughed.
“Because none of them want to rile Tye.
He has a reputation with his fists, and you did say you’re a friend of his.”

It was a question, not a statement, but Lil turned it back upon him. “What about you? Are you his friend?”

“Sure am. That’s why I’m here. I heard you were looking for him.” He held out his hand.
“Wiley Gable, ma’am.
And you’re Lil Crawford, unless I miss my guess.”

Startled, Lil released her gun and withdrew her hand from her bag. “You know my name? I didn’t tell anyone,” she said, absently shaking hands with him.

“Tye mentioned you. He told us he’d met you down in
Texas
, and you sound like you’re from that part of the country.”

The knowledge that she was in Tye’s thoughts filled Lil with a warm glow. “What do you mean
us?
”

“My wife Etta and me.
We run a dry goods store up the street. Why don’t you come on over. I’ll introduce you to Etta. Then I’ll see what I can do about finding Tye for you.” He glanced around the room, which had come to life again, and lowered his voice. “Besides, this isn’t any place for a lady.”

Lil wanted to jump for joy at his offer of help; she also wanted to laugh. If the man knew how many other saloons she’d visited in her search for Tye, he probably wouldn’t let her near his wife. He sure wouldn’t call her a lady. Not that she cared what he thought of her, so long as he found her fugitive Irishman.

“Lead the way,” she said, accepting the arm he offered.

He escorted her outside and, stepping over ruts and animal dung, they wove a path along
Main Street
between freight wagons and pack trains, stray dogs and human traffic. As they did, Lil couldn’t help thinking Silver Plume was like a poor relation to
Georgetown
. Only two miles up creek, but a thousand feet higher than its well-off neighbor, this place looked more like a typical mining camp. If she were to guess, she’d say
Georgetown
belonged to the mine owners and managers, and Silver Plume to the miners.

Laid out in a narrow gap between the mountains, the narrow business district stretched along the north side of Clear Creek. Unpainted, false-fronted buildings lined the street. Footpaths led up the steep mountainside that the town hugged. Lil glanced up there now and saw small houses – many no more than shacks – perched among the boulders, mine entrances and rubble.

Evidently catching her grimace of distaste, her companion remarked, “It’s not the prettiest place, I guess.”

Lil flushed uncomfortably. “Sorry. It’s . . . just different from back home.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean, but when you live here long enough, you get used to it.” He sent her a sidelong glance as they stepped onto the boardwalk outside Gable’s Dry Goods. He started to say something more, but just then a small boy came tearing out of the store.

“Papa, where’d you go?” he shrilled, latching onto Wiley’s leg.

“Easy there, boy, I was just down the street,” his father replied, smoothing the child’s cap of light brown hair. Glancing at Lil, he said proudly, “Miss Crawford, this is my son, Josh. Josh, what do you say to the lady?”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” the youngster piped up with a shy smile, not letting go of his father. The two looked very much alike, except for the difference in their hair color. They shared the same light blue eyes and square, even features.

Lil nodded and smiled back. “Howdy, Josh, I’m right pleased to meet you, too.”

He cocked his head and scrunched up his face. “You talk funny.”

“Josh! That’s no way to speak to a lady,” his father scolded. “Sorry, Miss Crawford, he’s only five and he’s still learning his manners.”

Laughing, Lil winked at the crestfallen child and exaggerated her drawl. “That’s all right, young’un, I reckon I do talk a might funny for these parts. That’s cuz I’m from
Texas
.”

Josh’s eyes grew big. “
Texas
!” Detaching himself from his anchor, he caught hold of her hand, bashfulness forgotten. “Do you know any cowboys? My papa’s friend Tye went to
Texas
, and he knows lots of ’em.”

“He does, huh? Well, I guess I might know a few.”

Amid the boy’s excited questions and her amused answers, Lil was ushered into the store by her two escorts. Once inside, Wiley hushed his son and introduced Lil to his wife.

A small, pretty woman with amber eyes and light brown hair like her son’s, Etta Gable looked surprised for a moment. Then a wide smile lit her face, and she walked out from behind the counter, revealing her ripe form. The woman was very pregnant.

“How nice to meet you, Miss Crawford,” she said. “May I call you Lil? After hearing Tye
speak
of you, I feel like I already know you.”

“Ah, s-sure,” Lil stammered, wondering just how much Tye had told his friends.

“Wonderful. And you must call me Etta. My, won’t Tye be surprised to see you.”

A gangly adolescent boy had been observing the introductions while he swept the floor. Lil hadn’t paid him much attention, but she looked at him now as Wiley motioned him forward.

“
Theo,
how’d you like to earn a little extra today?” the storekeeper asked.

“Sure would, Mister Gable.” The dark-haired youth nodded eagerly. “What do you want me to do?”

“You recall Tye Devlin, the tall Irishman who used to work up at the Silver Angel?”

“Uh-huh,
I seen
him with you the other day. ’
Member?
When he came back.”

“That’s right. I forgot you were here when he showed up. Well sir, he’s out nosing around for a fresh claim, but I need to see him right away. He planned to try up past Cherokee Gulch first.
How about you and a couple of your friends go round him up for me.
I’ll pay each of you four bits, tell the others.”

“Yes sir! I know just the ones,” Theo said excitedly. Standing his broom in a corner, he started for the door.

“Hold on, I’m not done,” Wiley called, bringing him to a halt. “When you boys find Devlin, I want you to tell him it’s important for him to get back here quick. Kind of an emergency, say. And Theo, you’re not to mention Miss Crawford here, got that?”

“Yes sir,” the youth said, shooting Lil an inquisitive glance.

Wiley nodded. “All right, get going.”

“Be sure you boys tell your mothers where you’re off to,” Etta Gable added as Theo dashed out the door.

“We will,” he yelled back, taking off like a shot up the street.

“That ought to bring Tye back here,” Wiley said confidently.

“Mmm, if he doesn’t have heart failure along the way, thinking somebody died,” Etta commented dryly.

Her husband chuckled. “It won’t hurt him to get a little scared, and it’s the only way he’ll come in quick.” Smiling at Etta and Lil, he suggested, “Why don’t you two ladies go upstairs and visit a while. You need to get off your feet, sweetheart, and I can mind things down here. Josh will help me, won’t you, son.”

“Oh boy!
Can I work the
regi
. . .
regir
–
”

Wiley chuckled. “The cash register?”

“Yeah!
Can I, Papa? Please?”

“All right, come on over here and I’ll give you a boost.”

With a squeal of delight, the little boy scampered around behind the counter with his father while Lil followed Etta Gable upstairs to the family’s living quarters.

A combination parlor and kitchen faced the rear of the building. The stairs came up on the parlor side of the room. Noting two doors along the far wall, Lil guessed they led to bedrooms overlooking the street. There was also a door set in the back wall. She assumed that one opened onto outside stairs, a precaution in case of fire no doubt.

The parlor sported a braid rug worked in shades of rose and brown. Two armchairs, covered with tanned hide, faced each other from opposite ends of the rug. Between them and set back, stood a rose-brocaded sofa with dark walnut legs that curved upward gracefully into ornate arms. The arched back was topped by a fretwork band of carved leaves and curlicues.

Lil stared in awe at the fancy sofa, drawing an amused chuckle from her hostess.

“It was a gift from my parents back in
Pennsylvania
. They wanted me to have one piece of
civilization
, they said.” Etta’s wry smile became one of pride as she gestured at the chairs. “Wiley built the chairs and the rest of our furniture with his own two hands.”