Texas Lucky (24 page)

Tess, infuriated even more by the tittering of the men gathered around, sputtered, “That…that’s not fair. No one has ever complained before.”

He grunted. “Maybe nobody was as smart as me.”

The crowd chuckled louder.

“You don’t run in my race,” Chester repeated in finality, and turned away.

It was not fair, she fumed as she looked around and saw scrawny cowboys preparing to race. They were thin from months on the trail. Why, she’d bet she weighed more than most of them, for she had put on weight during the summer. One thing she and Buck had not done during their traveling together was skimp on food. She saw to it they ate well.

No, it had nothing to do with her being a woman. Chester Arthur had seen Saber. Buck told her he had been in the livery stable and watched as Chester gave him a once-over, frowning all the while. He knew Saber was a winner, and he did not want him to race.

But race he would, by God.

Because Tess knew if he didn’t, she had more to lose than the prize money.

She was going to lose Buck, and she could not let that happen.

Frantic, she looked around and spotted him leaning against a railing and looking as miserable as she felt.

Pushing her way to him, she cried, “Get ready. You’re going to ride Saber.”

He pushed from the railing to cry, “Are you crazy? I’ve never even ridden him, Tess. He wouldn’t race for me.”

“Yes, he will. And he’ll win, too. You’ll see. Come on. Let’s get him ready.”

Hurrying to the livery stable, Tess threw her arms around the great horse’s neck and whispered in his ear that he had to win even if she wasn’t riding him. She was depending on him.

When she stepped back, Buck asked in wonder, “You don’t really think he understood what you said, do you?”

She threw him a pixie like grin. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

Pulling Saber after them, they returned to the street, which was crammed with carriages, wagons, horses, and milling people.

Chester Arthur, with his booming voice and the help of those he paid to assist him, cleared a section a half-mile long.

There were five qualifying races, with six horses entered in each so that in the final run there would be only five winners competing against Chester Arthur’s entry.

As Tess and Buck watched each race, they agreed that the horses coming in first were nowhere near as quick as Saber.

Then, when it was Saber’s turn, Chester glowered to see Buck bring him in three lengths ahead of the others.

Tess was beside herself, alternating between hugging Buck and hugging Saber. “We’re going to do it. I know we are,” she cried. “So you can go tell that Mr. Meade you’ve got a job and don’t need his.”

Buck tried to share her enthusiasm but, in his usual straightforward way, pointed out that while they had not had the opportunity to see Chester Arthur’s horse run, word was he was going to be hard to beat.

“Turns out,” Buck confided between sips of the cold beer Tess had waiting for him at the finish line, “that it’s not even his horse.”

Alarm prickled. “What do you mean?”
 

“I was talking to one of the other racers while we were waiting to start, and he said he’d talked to the man who really owns that fine horse of Chester’s. Chester paid him to let him say it was his to make folks think that’s why he’s putting on the race—to show off his own horse. The truth is, Chester is always pulling stunts like this to put on a show.”

“Well, what difference does it make as long as he pays the purse?”

“I’m wondering about that now.”

Tess stiffened. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know exactly. Maybe because I heard he’s bet a lot on that horse. So the question is—if we win, will he have two thousand dollars left over after he pays his gambling debts?”

“He better,” Tess said menacingly, the double holster she was wearing suddenly heavy around her waist. If she had to use a gun to scare an unscrupulous promoter into paying up, she would not hesitate.

And this time, she would not need Curt Hammond to help her do it.

Excitement was at fever pitch as the horses lined up for the final race.

Tess climbed up on a water barrel in order to be able to see out over the hordes.

All around, people were talking about their bets, and she could not help feeling a twinge of worry to hear that everyone seemed to favor the quarter horse claimed by Chester Arthur. But after all, she reasoned, who wanted to bet on a horse that had just completed a race? Saber had to be exhausted. Not a half hour had passed since he had run.

“Ready…” came the starter’s cry.

Tess was clenching her fists so hard her nails dug into her flesh and drew blood, but she did not notice as the gun fired.

One horse bucked wildly at the report, lunging about in every direction.

Saber took off, with Chester’s horse right beside him.

But not for long.

Saber quickly pulled to three lengths in front.

Then four.

Then five.

The crowd was screaming—but not for him. Their wagers were on the horse running second and falling farther behind with each lunge of Saber’s mighty legs.

Tess leaped down from the barrel, pushing her way through the stunned crowd to get to Buck and Saber as they came across the finish line, dimly aware that a scattering of people were near hysterical screaming with joy. They were the ones who had dared bet on Saber…the ones who would collect vast winnings from those they had wagered with.

“You did it, you did it, you did it,” she cried, throwing her arms around Saber’s neck as he pawed the ground proudly.

And then Buck was grabbing her and swinging her around in triumph. “He not only won,” he exulted, “he made the others look lame.”

Tess glanced about for Chester Arthur. She wanted the two thousand dollars, wanted to get it to the bank to put it with the rest she had on deposit so it would be safe until she made arrangements to purchase land. Then she was going to buy the biggest steak in Dallas for Buck. In the morning, they would set out to look for land, and—

“He’s over there,” Buck said abruptly, knowing she was looking for Chester. “And damned if it don’t look like he’s leaving.”

“Not with my money, he isn’t.” Tess turned in the direction he pointed, and sure enough, Chester Arthur was in a buggy, about to head out of town.

She charged straight to him and demanded, “Where’s my two thousand dollars, Mr. Arthur?”

His face was pale and drawn, and his hands were shaking. “Now…now we need to talk about this,” he began, coughing to clear his throat and glancing about nervously. “I…I have some problems, but if you’ll give me some time, I know I can get them straightened out. And you will get your money, I promise.” He tried to offer a reassuring smile but did not quite make it, for his lips were trembling too hard.

Tess tersely declared, “My horse won the race fair and square. You owe me the money. You also made a lot of money on entry fees. So pay up.”

“I also
bet
a lot of money,” he said, desperate to make her understand. “I thought my horse had the only true chance of winning because he was fresh, so I bet all the money I had on him.

“Including the prize money,” he finished lamely.

Tess cried, “You were crooked as hell to put on a race like that, and we were all crazy to let you get away with it. You owe me the money, by damn, and you aren’t leaving here till I get it.”

And she meant it. Too much was at stake, for suddenly all her dreams for the future seemed now or never.

“I…I’ll give you an IOU,” he stammered, fishing in his satin vest beneath his bright red coat for pencil and paper. “And I’ll pay you as soon as I get the money. I have it. I swear to you that I do. I’m really a wealthy man. You’ve just caught me in a very embarrassing situation.”

“No IOU, Mr. Arthur. I want my money.” Tess slowly moved her right hand to the butt of her gun on her left side. She was not going to shoot him, but he did not know that.

His eyes went wide, and he dropped the reins to throw both his hands in the air as he pleaded, “Now…now, there’s no need for any of this. I…I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a deed—to some land I own.”

He saw the interest that sprang to her eyes and began to talk faster. “It’s good land, too. South of here. Near the Shawnee Trail. I won it in a race a while back. Haven’t known what to do with it. I’m a promoter. Not a rancher or a farmer. But it’s yours if you want it. I’ve got the deed right here. We’ll go to the bank and make it nice and legal.”

Buck, standing a few feet away, wanted to know, “How much land are you talking about?”

Chester nervously looked from Tess to Buck, then back to Tess. “Fifteen thousand acres. Has a watershed. Good ranchland. It’s yours. What do you say?”

Tess cut her eyes to Buck, the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to keep from grinning.

Also holding back a smile, he nodded his approval.

“All right,” she said to Chester. “Let’s do it.”

Fifteen minutes later, Chester Arthur left town in a cloud of dust, running from the rest of his gambling debts he had been unable to pay.

And Tess and Buck were in a saloon staring at the deed and toasting to their good fortune.

Word spread, and everyone wanted to congratulate Tess for having made Chester pay up.

She was basking in the glory of it all as she watched Buck kicking up his heels with one of the saloon girls to the music from a tinny piano.

Unused to drinking, her head was spinning a bit from the sangria she had been sipping to celebrate, and when the man spoke, right at her ear, she was sure she had not heard right.

“You’ve got something of mine.”

“What—” She whipped about to look at him, and that was when she knew she had to be drunk.

She could not be staring up into Curt Hammond’s angry face.

But she was.

“I said—” he spoke with teeth clenched and jaw set—“that you’ve got something of mine.”

He nodded to the deed.

She shook her head to try to clear it, but the room had started spinning faster. “I…I don’t understand.”

“I heard how you and your sweetheart got Chester Arthur to deed you that land, but he had no right. It’s mine.”

He threw a piece of paper on the table.

“That’s an IOU from him to me.”

He slapped his hands on the table and leaned down in her face so close she could feel the heat of his breath.

“I won that goddamn land in a poker game over a month ago…and I aim to have it.”

Chapter Eighteen

“That’s crazy.
You’re
crazy.”

Tess gripped the edge of the table and wondered whether it was the wine making her feel dizzy or the fact that she was looking up into the face of Curt Hammond, whom she had alternated between hating and loving all these months.

“No. You’re the one who’s crazy if you think I’m not going to fight for what’s mine. And what the hell are you doing here, anyway? Damn it!”

He slammed his fist on the table so hard her wine sloshed over the rim of the glass.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with your…your”—he gestured—“hair all chopped off. Why didn’t you go home like I told you to?”

Tess felt like someone had struck a match to her feet, setting her on fire, the flames slowly creeping upward to ignite her whole body in a flash of white-hot rage.

“How dare you ask
me
anything? I’m the one with the questions, mister—like where’s my money you stole?”

“I didn’t actually steal it. I just wanted to upset you enough to make you go back. The first chance I got, I sent it to your address in Philadelphia.”

“Ha.” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in the chair. “Likely story.”

“Hell, I don’t care if you believe me or not.” He threw an annoyed glance at Buck, who was still dancing. “But if you didn’t want to leave, how come you didn’t take up with that officer back at Fort Whipple instead of tying up with a rowdy cowpoke?”

“Buck isn’t rowdy. He’s a good man—not that it’s any of your business. He also happens to be my foreman.”

“Your
foreman
,” he sneered. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and signaled for a drink. “Whiskey. Make it a double.”

Tess snapped, “I did not tell you to sit down.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Well, we have nothing to say to each other. And you’ve got a lot of nerve. If I were a man who’d stolen a woman’s money and abandoned her, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to face her.”

“I told you I returned the money, which you probably know and won’t admit. As for me abandoning you, as you call it, you seem to forget I wasn’t obliged to drag you around with me, anyway.”

“You didn’t drag me. I did my part.”

“Your part?” he hooted. “You damn near got me killed, woman. What if those Indians had been quicker? It could be me out there rotting in the desert instead of them.”