Scarlet Lady (6 page)

“I think I can.”

“She must be a fool or a fish. You say she made it to shore?”

“I saw her.”

“She could have drowned.”

Montana chewed on the end of his unlit cigar. “I don’t think she’s a fool. Desperate is more like it.”

“What do you mean?”

“She came on this boat determined to win a lot of money. No, what she said was a lot of
my
money. That’s the key.
My
money. Why would that be?”

“You’re convenient?” Royal offered.

“There are three gambling paddleboats along this stretch of the Mississippi. Why mine?” And why, he wondered, did she leave without claiming the
Scarlet Lady
?

Royal smiled. “Boss, more than half the gamblers on this boat are women, women who come here because of you.”

“Women make up more than half the gamblers in all casinos, Royal.” He carried on the conversation with Royal, but his mind wasn’t on the words.

“But on the other boats they don’t move from floor to floor when you do.”

Montana looked at Royal in surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“ ’Course you haven’t. You just dress in those black clothes because you like pretending you’re one of the Earp gang.”

“Only when I’m working. When I’m not, I look like a beach bum, which I’m going to be in real life if our ship jumper comes back and claims the
Lady
.”

“What do you mean, claims the
Lady
?”

Montana pitched the cigar overboard and leaned forward, resting his arms on the rail. “That was the bet. If I won, I won her for the night.”

“And if she won?”

“She got the
Scarlet Lady
. I’m sure she knows I never welsh on a bet. I expect she’ll be back.”

Royal frowned. Behind them, the workers were leaving for the evening, the crew was tying the boat down for the night, and the lights on the dock were going out, one by one.

“You say she won?”

“No, she said she won. She had the queen all right.”

“Then I’m back to square one. Why’d she climb out the window and go overboard?”

“Because, my friend, to win, the lady cheated. And there’s only one thing I hate more than a welsher—a cheater.”

The message was waiting for Montana in his office, a message he’d expected for a long time. A message he couldn’t ignore.
Call Lincoln McAllister as soon as possible
.

He glanced at his watch. Louisiana time was after three in the morning. But Mac and Shangri-la were in New Mexico, a one-hour difference, and the word was that Mac never slept. Montana picked up the phone.

One ring. “Yes?”

Montana remembered the voice well. “It’s Montana,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me,” was Mac’s curious reply. “Do you know a kid named Carson Carithers?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“He owes you money?”

Montana groaned. Carson Carithers was the world’s worst poker player and he drank too much. The kid was a problem Montana tried to dodge. He’d done everything but ban him from the boat. Still he came back, desperately determined to recoup his losses. Finally, Montana decided that Carson was better off gambling on the
Lady
than somewhere else. At least Montana wouldn’t deliberately take advantage of his obvious addiction.

“Does he owe me money?” Montana finally said. “He does. Too much money. I’m holding a fistful of IOUs with his family home as collateral.”

“And that’s why I’m calling. Carson Carithers is what’s wrong. He has a sister who is devoted to him. He’s already lost the family business and now they’re about to lose the family home. They need help, Montana. I need you to help them.”

Montana wanted to swear. He wanted to hang up the phone and pretend the call had never come. Hell, if he were wishing, he’d wish the entire evening hadn’t happened, including his lady in red—the lady who’d disappeared before he could get to her.

He’d learned a few things about her. She hadn’t drowned. She had an accomplice. She was a cheat, a liar, and she could swim like a fish.

And kiss like an innocent.

And make his pulse quicken at the thought of kissing her again.

“Montana? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“I assume if you’re holding his markers, you have an address.”

“I know where he lives, in a dilapidated plantation upriver. But I’ve never been there socially. I’m a Mississippi riverboat gambler, remember. I don’t get many invitations to hobnob with society.”

“Well, here’s your chance. A little culture might be good for you.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Go talk to the sister, Katherine. Someone has to take Carson in hand, someone who isn’t family.”

Go and visit Katherine Carithers, just what he needed.

“Montana, are you listening?” Mac asked, interrupting the gambler’s grumbling.

“I’m listening. You want me to forgive his debts?” That wasn’t something he was happy about, but he owed Mac—anything he asked.

“No. I was asked to help him and his sister. Now I’m asking you to do for someone else what I once did for you.”

“You want me to give him a job?”

“I’ll leave the details up to you.”

“Consider it done,” Montana answered. “I’ll get back to you.”

He hung up the phone. The lady in red would have to wait. His obligation to Mac came first. First thing tomorrow, he’d head for Carithers’ Chance. Some name for a plantation. He’d heard young Carson brag about his home so often that he’d once driven by to see it.

“Built before the War Between the States,” Carson would say, not in pride but in a mocking voice. “By the first Carson Carithers, a man of vision who took a chance and raised the best cotton in Louisiana.”

Taking a chance seemed to be the one trait the present-day Carson had inherited. That and the name. He wondered about the sister. But mainly he wondered what he could do about a kid hell-bent on self-destruction.

Rhett Butler Montana had spent years cursing families who held their reputation and their traditions as the most important thing in life, who hurt and punished in the name of honor. He’d decided long ago that being responsible for himself was the only thing that mattered. A family’s expectations only brought pain, and he had no intention of ever subjecting himself to that again.

Now, come morning, he was headed for Carithers’ Chance and the very thing he’d avoided—a woman who
apparently believed in the one thing Montana refused to believe in—unconditional commitment to family.

It was very late when Carson returned to Carithers’ Chance, surprisingly sober and contrite.

Katie met him at the door. She had trouble believing that the tall, dramatic-looking man with the poetic eyes was her younger brother. Growing up, she’d always thought he was meant to be a Byron or Shelley. But he’d given up on using his creative talents when their father died and left him in charge of a dwindling shipping business. Barges weren’t glamorous, and over time they were less and less profitable. And though Carson was never a businessman, he wouldn’t let Katie have any more say in the business than her father had.

“Where have you been, Carson?”

“I flew to Philadelphia to see mother’s friend Sterling. You remember, she’s the secretary in that import-export firm, the one who works for that millionaire, Conner Preston.”

Katie gasped. “Sterling? Why?”

“I thought she might be able to help?”

“You tried to borrow money from Sterling?” As soon as she let the accusation fly, she regretted it. The wince on Carson’s face was too familiar. She’d seen it often when she’d reacted negatively to his decisions.

“No, Katie. Though I wouldn’t be too proud to ask for a loan if I thought she had enough money to bail us out.”

“Then what did you ask for?”

“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work. I just wanted to stop you from going out gambling tonight.”

“How did you know what I was doing?”

“I heard you talking to Cat. I knew you’d lose. Don’t worry. I’m not going to rake you over the coals for doing the same thing I’ve done. I’m going to bed,” he said tiredly.

“No, Carson. Wait.”

Katie caught her brother by the arm. “I’m sorry. I was just so worried about you. And I—I have some good news.”

“What? Did you find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?”

“You could say that. I did get caught in a storm earlier.”

His interest was piqued. “I know. I was flying in it.”

“Come into the office, Carson. I have something to show you.”

She’d taken off Cat’s ruined red dress and pulled on a robe. Then she’d put the money in a pillowcase and dropped it in the clothes dryer. When the bills were dry, she ironed out the wrinkles. By the time Carson returned, she’d counted the money and divided it into stacks of a thousand dollars. Her winnings almost covered the top of the desk.

Carson took one look at the bills on the desk and his eyes widened. “What—how? You won?” He couldn’t conceal his disbelief.

“I won.”

“I don’t like that, Katherine. Those casinos are no
place for a woman like you. Promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I hope I don’t have to.” Katie counted the stacks. “Eighteen thousand dollars. Is it enough to redeem your IOUs?”

“No.”

He’d lied to her. That didn’t surprise her, but the amount did. “How much more do you need?”

“At least another ten thousand,” Carson said sheepishly. “But with this, I can make a start at clearing up a big chunk of my debts and buy some time for the rest. Thank you, but don’t do it again. I’ll start first thing tomorrow.”

Katie looked at her brother for a long moment. Did she dare let him return the money to Montana? What other choice did she have? She didn’t think she could face him again.

“Carson, if I hand over this money to you, will you promise not to gamble with it? Can I trust you to pay off your debts?”

“I’ll pay them off, Katie,” he said, holding a pile of the money and riffling it through the air. “I promise.”

“You’ve promised before, Carson,” she reminded him.

“I know and I’m sorry I’ve been such a failure. I won’t let you down this time, sis. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“All right. I’m going to put the money in the safe. Tomorrow morning”—she glanced at the big clock over the mantel and changed her wording—“make that later today, I want you to take this money to Mr. Montana
and settle up. Don’t tell him where you got it. And Carson, bring the IOUs back to me.”

He watched her gather up the money, studying her with those great dark eyes that always made her want to put her arms around him and promise that everything would be all right. She knew her caretaker attitude to Carson didn’t help. But she’d promised their mother and father that she’d look after her brother and she refused to admit that Carson wasn’t the honorable man a Carithers was supposed to be.

Maybe this would force him to take hold of his life and be strong enough to find a new direction. Strong, like the man she’d gambled with. The man who held Carson’s future and Carithers’ Chance in his hands. Hands that had held her earlier tonight.

Long after Carson had gone up to bed, Katie sat in the office, staring out at the night, at the river that rushed by the levee in the darkness beyond the drive. Once there had been fields of cotton, indigo, and sugarcane. When she was troubled she could stand by the window and see those cotton fields in the sunlight. Once the Caritherses’ barges ferried all that cotton down to New Orleans. Once the Caritherses had been a family of planters.

All that was gone now. There’d never be any more cotton. The lands, the barges, the family. Only she and Carson and the house were left. And if she hadn’t won tonight, Montana would be claiming half of the house.

Carson had assured her he’d redeem his IOUs, but she wasn’t certain she could trust him. And the eighteen thousand wasn’t enough. She’d either have to face Montana
and claim his boat, or she’d have to go gambling again.

Could she return to the
Scarlet Lady
? If she could win again, she’d just give him back his boat. What would she do with a gambling boat anyway? Her father would have called her line of reasoning weak, but after almost losing Carithers’ Chance, she couldn’t bring herself to take someone else’s livelihood, not without trying every other way first. Lady Luck had been with her once. Could she count on winning a second time?

An even bigger question was could she face Rhett Butler Montana one more time? Another kiss like the last one and she might not be able to run away.

Still, if that’s what it took to save her family’s land, she’d go with Carson in the morning. They’d be a team, protecting each other. This time she’d forget the red dress and the feathers.

She picked up her glasses and slid them on. This time she’d face Montana as the woman she really was, an accountant on a mission, a woman intent on outwitting a gambler who thought he had the power to take everything she held dear.

FOUR