Soiled Dove (12 page)

Clare flinched when Loretta’s hand flew out and slapped his face. Laughter erupted from the men at his table and his eyes turned dark with fury. “Shut up!” he yelled as he stood and grabbed Loretta by the wrist. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he growled, jerking her closer.

“Let her go, Clement,” Clare’s dusky voice ordered.

He threw Loretta’s arm away and glared at Clare while Loretta moved out of reach.

“This is none of your damn business, so butt out, squatter,” Clement snarled.

Clare’s eyes shifted around the room and saw everyone watching to see what would happen. Her eyes turned darker as she brought them back to stare at the cowboy.

“You don’t belong in here with decent people, you pervert!” Clement spat.

Anger suddenly flashed in Clare’s eyes and the men accompanying her winced slightly. “Now it’s worth it,” she muttered. She wiped her mouth with a napkin before slowly standing and walking around the table toward the drunken cowboy. “You should teach your boy better manners, Thaddeus,” she said, never taking her eyes off Clement.

“He’s a grown man, McIlhenney,” Thaddeus grinned.

Emboldened by his father’s response, Clement clenched his fist and spun toward Clare to strike her.

But too much whiskey made it easy for her to side-step him. As he tried to swing a second time she grabbed his arm and slammed him into the table, face first. “No, no, no!” Rosario hollered as she sailed through the swinging door from the kitchen, rolling pin in hand. “Willis!”

Within a matter of seconds the small eatery became a flurry of activity as Clare glared down at the bleeding man. Willis pumped the action of his shotgun and brought it to his shoulder. The doorway between the café and the saloon rapidly filled with curious on-lookers, some sipping from mugs of beer and hanging onto one of the bar girls.

“Do somethin’, ya pussy!” a cowboy from the saloon called out with a laugh.

“I’ll shoot the first one that makes a move,” Willis said as he took two steps into the café. “Get out while you still can, Clement,” Willis warned.

“That bitch hit me for no good reason, Manning.

Why don’t you throw her out?” Blood dribbled down Clement’s chin and small spatters flew from his lips as he spoke.

“’Cause I reckon she ain’t the one actin’ like a damn jackass,” Willis stated, tossing Clement a napkin to staunch his bleeding. Clement wiped angrily at his face and threw the napkin down on the table.

Willis escorted the Garners and their hands from the café and Rosario poked Loretta in the ribs, causing her to wince. “New customers,” she said, nodding at another table.

Loretta stepped over to Clare’s table. “Thank you,” she said.

Clare brought a forkful of enchilada to her mouth.

“I could use a refill on the coffee.”

Loretta nodded and left to serve her new customers.

“You plan on seeing Mavis tonight?” Clare asked Ino as Loretta refilled their coffee cups. She watched a flush appear on her foreman’s ruddy cheeks and grinned. “Just get up in time to load that wire.” Frank laughed as they all relaxed again.

Ino and Frank finally pushed their platters away and leaned back in their chairs.

“Damn! That was good,” Frank sighed as he rolled a cigarette.

Ino and Frank shared a match to ignite their cigarettes while Clare moved her eyes from table to table. She knew one or two of Rosario’s customers, but not the family she watched stand and walk toward the counter to pay their bill.

Clare picked up the check for the meal and walked to the front counter. She nodded at the woman and young girl who stood to the side, waiting for the tall, gangly man Clare had seen Loretta speaking to earlier in the evening.

“You should have tried the cobbler,” she overheard Loretta say.

“This isn’t a safe place for you to work, Retta,” the man stated in a low voice, leaning closer in an attempt to not be overheard.

Clare glanced over the baked goods on display in a glass case near the counter.

“He was drunk, Cyrus. No one was hurt,” Loretta said calmly.

“I can’t believe they allow customers to carry loaded weapons in here,” he continued.

“Not exactly St. Joe, is it? Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse than this. Now take Miss Hettie and Amelia home and calm down.”

“I’ll come back and escort you home when the café closes.”

“That’s not necessary. That cowboy won’t even remember what happened when he sobers up.”

Clare watched Loretta during her huddled discussion with the man. Their conversation seemed friendly enough, but she could see the worried look on man’s face. The waitress was a beautiful young woman, certainly beautiful enough for any man to want. Clare frowned as she waited to pay for her meal, certain that neither she nor the young waitress had seen the last of Clement Garner.

WHEN CLARE AND her men returned to the saloon, bellies full, business had picked up. Clare spotted a poker game near the back of the saloon and excused herself to join it. Ino and Frank returned to the bar and ordered another drink. Ino had no sooner thrown the drink back than two arms slid around his chest and he caught the scent of flowery perfume.

“You didn’t let me know you were comin’ into town,” a woman’s voice purred.

Turning in the woman’s arms, Ino smiled when he saw her face framed by a full head of red hair.

“Clare’s order at the mercantile is supposed to be here, Miss Mavis.”

“Then I’m glad you got here early tonight, sugar.

You eat already?”

“Yeah. Just finished.”

“Lookin’ for a little dessert to top off your meal?”

she whispered.

“Don’t see how I could pass that up,” he said with a grin.

“Where’s Clare?”

“Playin’ poker.”

Mavis looked over her shoulder and spotted Clare holding five cards in her hand, slouched down in a chair with her hat pushed to the back of her head. She was a study in concentration. “Hey, Peg!” Mavis called to a woman who was draped over another customer at the bar.

“Yeah,” Peg said.

“How’s about takin’ a drink over to Clare? Tell her it’s on me. And keep an eye on her. You know how she can get.”

The woman nodded and motioned toward Willis for the drink.

“That’s mighty nice of you, Miss Mavis,” Ino smiled.

“Well,” Mavis began as she played with the buttons on his shirt and looked slyly up at him. “If I’m gonna be entertainin’ her best hand all night, it seems the least I can do.”

“All night, huh?”

“Unless, of course, you’re not up to it,” Mavis teased.

“Just make sure I’m up in time to load our buckboard with a few supplies.”

“You got nothin’ to worry about, sugar,” Mavis said as she poked him playfully in the chest. She slid her fingers between the buttons and pulled him away from the bar and toward the stairs to her room. “If anybody asks, Willis, tell ‘em I’m indisposed tonight,” she said as they passed the bartender who only nodded and continued wiping down the bar.

Clare was engrossed in her game, but noticed Ino and Mavis out of the corner of her eye. She liked Mavis Calendar. Amazin’ Mavis. That was what some of the men in town called her and Ino certainly enjoyed spending time with her. She was startled by a slender hand sliding over her shoulders as a drink was set in front of her. “From Miss Mavis,” Peg whispered, sending a chill down Clare’s spine. “If you get tired later, you can bed down with me, sugar.”

“Thanks, Peg. I have a room at the hotel.” Clare said as she upped her bet. She watched the brunette stroll back across the bar. There was something about the way Peg moved that intrigued her. The woman had a thin waist with hips that flared out slightly from the tight corset she wore and Clare wondered what would happen if the string holding her bodice together popped loose.

“Your bet,” a man across from Clare said, bringing her thoughts back to the game.

Clare picked up her third shot and held it as she scanned the three men at the table. She leaned back in the hard wooden chair, trying to relax. So far the whiskey wasn’t helping. She lost the first three hands as she struggled to get a fix on how the men at the table played. Her fourth hand was a much better one and she tried not to let it show on her face. She played with the small stack of chips in front of her and wagered a small amount. Ino taught her to lure the other players in with small bets that indicated a weak hand. She wasn’t convinced it was the right thing to do, but decided to take his advice. By the time the round ended, she had taken a sizeable pot and was feeling confident. Perhaps too confident.

As the shots continued to be set in front of her, she began losing. She couldn’t think, but couldn’t force herself away from the table. By the time her chips were down to the break-even point, she felt warm breath next to her ear and inhaled the scent of sweet floral perfume. “You should call it a night and get some rest, sweetie,” a familiar soft voice said.

Clare turned her head toward the voice and saw Peg, leaning next to her. “I’m fine,” Clare muttered.

“Just a bad streak.”

“Just too much liquor. Quit while you’re even, honey.”

When Clare ignored her advice, Peg reached in front of her and took the cards from her hand and tossed them in. “What the hell are you doing?” Clare demanded. She stood up quickly and spun around to face the shorter woman with chestnut hair. Before she could say anything else, she noticed the room hadn’t stopped spinning when her body did. She push her hat back on her head and gave Peg a crooked grin. “I reckon you’re right, Peg.”

“You know I am, sugar. Now go on upstairs and go to sleep.”

“I got a room at the hotel,” Clare mumbled.

“Well, I ain’t lugging your sorry ass all the way to the hotel.”

“Just need some fresh air.” She leaned over and picked up her old Henry rifle. “Tell Ino not to be late in the morning. We got work to do at the ranch.”

“Stubborn woman,” Peg said as Clare moved toward the door.

Clare rested for a moment against the post in front of the saloon before she began the walk to the Columbian Hotel. She was tired and teetering on the edge of drunkenness, but was looking forward to a hot bath at the hotel. She walked slowly down the deserted street.

Halfway to the hotel she heard footsteps behind her and clenched her hand around her rifle. She waited until the footsteps were closer, then stopped and brought the rifle up to hip level, pointing it at whoever was following her. She blinked to clear her vision and lowered the rifle once again. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Are you all right?” Loretta asked. “I was on my way home and noticed you seemed to be having a little trouble walking.”

“Too much liquor can do that.” Clare reached up and dragged her hat off, letting her hair fall unevenly in her face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Are you staying at the hotel?”

“Eventually,” Clare answered.

“Why don’t I make sure you get there before I head home?”

“I’m fine, but you shouldn’t be out alone this late at night.”

Loretta laughed. “You sound like my brother-in-law. I can take care of myself.”

“And I obviously need to sober up some. A walk would do me good. Where do you live?”

“At the parsonage of the Presbyterian Church near the edge of town.”

The women walked silently for a while. Then Loretta said, “We’ve never been properly introduced.

I’m Loretta Langford.”

“Clare McIlhenney.”

“Rosario tells me you’re a rancher.”

“Of sorts.”

“And I gather you’re not particularly fond of the Garners.”

“Not particularly.”

“And apparently you’re not much of a talker either.”

Clare stopped and looked down at Loretta. “Not unless I have something to say that anyone gives a damn about.”

“Is that your subtle way of telling me I talk too much?” Loretta blinked up innocently.

“No, ma’am.”

Loretta glanced at Clare as they continued toward the parsonage. Despite her slightly inebriated condition and somewhat grim exterior, Clare McIlhenney was a striking woman. She had angular facial features and, when she allowed anyone to see what was in them, seductive brown eyes under heavy eyelids.

Periodically, they would hear a noise and Clare would raise her rifle slightly and look around. Loretta noticed how quickly her eyes turned from hazy to alert. “Are you expecting trouble?” she asked.

“Trouble always happens when you least expect it. I’ve found it’s best to keep an eye out for it.”

They were less than a block away from the parsonage when Loretta saw a figure walking briskly toward them. Clare began to bring her rifle up once again, but Loretta stopped her. “It’s Cyrus. My brother-in-law,” she said quietly.

Cyrus closed the distance between them in a near trot and placed his hand protectively on Loretta’s elbow. “Are you all right, Retta?”

“I’m fine, Cyrus. Miss McIlhenney was kind enough to walk me home.”

“I meant to leave sooner, but Elder Jessup stopped by to discuss a church matter,” he explained. He turned to Clare. “Thank you for escorting Loretta safely home, Miss McIlhenney. If I’m not mistaken, this is the second time tonight you’ve come to her assistance.” Cyrus extended his hand. “Cyrus Langford.”

Clare shifted her rifle to her left hand and took his hand awkwardly. “Reverend. Welcome to Trinidad.”

Clare looked at Loretta, her eyes unfathomable, and nodded slightly. “Good evening, ma’am.”

Clare turned around and began the five block walk back toward the Columbian Hotel.

When he was certain they were out of earshot Cyrus said, “I’m glad someone escorted you, Retta, but Miss McIlhenney wouldn’t have been my choice.”

“She is a little tipsy, but…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I was telling Elder Jessup about the events at the café tonight. He is very familiar with Miss McIlhenney and the man she lives with.” He leaned in closer and whispered,

“There’s talk that she’s murdered some men, but the Sheriff could never prove it.”

“Possibly because it wasn’t true.”

“Well, regardless, her reputation isn’t exactly stellar. She lives alone on her ranch with six men. I shudder to think what might be going on out there.”