Texas Rose TH2 (29 page)

"No one will ever see my painting again," she answered with a dramatic sniff and a glare that pinpointed Daniel.

Daniel looked over his glasses in the direction of Evie's bedroom. "Guess again, sister." He nodded toward the doorway.

Maria stood there, both chubby hands wrapped around a piece of wood as tall as she was. She dragged it farther into the room, grinning hugely. "Mine," she pronounced adamantly.

Tyler whooped and grabbed the board, lifting it into the air before Evie could beat him to it. It wasn't a board but a wood frame for a canvas, and he was nearly thrown off balance by the lightness of it as he tried to keep it over his head and catch the subject in the light.

"Tyler Monteigne, if you don't give that back to me right now, I'll never speak to you again!"

"Promise?" Tyler whistled as he recognized the dark-eyed urchin in the front corner of the canvas. The figure in the background was barely sketched in, but he had the ominous feeling that he might be the subject. There was something uncomfortably familiar about the figure's stance with hands in pocket and shoulders thrown back. The child in the picture was apparently offering him something, but the object wasn't finished yet. The whole subject made him uneasy.

Manuel and Jose burst in at that moment, followed by Carmen. Evie scowled at Tyler as he continued to peruse her work, but she was forced to ignore him as she shepherded the boys into cleaning up before they came to the table.

Without comment, Tyler handed the piece to Daniel. Then he bent and picked Maria up and put her on the high stool evidently meant for her. The boys' excited chatter filled the sudden silence between the adults as they settled at the table.

Tyler watched as Evie bustled around making certain everyone had what they needed, including Daniel, who had to eat in his corner. She was not only a beautiful liar and a woman who could handle four children and a rebellious adolescent at once, but she had talent that he had never suspected.

What else was he going to find out about Evie Peyton before she put the noose around him and lynched him good?

Chapter 22

"That was a delightful dinner, Evie, but I've got a game waiting for me over at the Red Eye." Tyler moved his chair back from the table and eyed his hostess warily as she passed the dishes to Carmen to wash. As far as he could tell, she wasn't wearing his ring. He didn't know what to make of that.

The look Evie gave him was fulminating, but not clear as to his transgression.

"Why, go and play and have a good time, Mr. Monteigne. Perhaps we'll see you again before you move on."

She didn't even need to lace her words with scorn. They were quite effective all by themselves. Tyler stood and reached for his hat. She knew he made his living by gambling. She didn't have to make it sound like he was just out for a good time. And that crack about moving on deserved some kind of retribution, but not in front of the kids.

He needed to come back and have a good long talk with Miss Evie Peyton, but now wasn't the time. He had new reasons for wanting to add to the stack of cash he was accumulating in that bank back in Natchez, and time was wasting while he stood here arguing with this woman he wasn't certain he could call wife.

"I need to talk with you when you get a chance. Alone." Tyler added the emphasis when Evie just gave him one of those tantalizing smiles.

"I'm sure you do, sir, but as you can see, that's not likely to happen any time soon. But we'll be happy to have you for dinner if you happen by." Evie removed the damask tablecloth and took it to the back door to shake it out, deliberately turning her back him.

Tyler reckoned she wanted to shake him just like that cloth, so he said his farewell to Daniel, gave Carmen a charming smile, and left.

Several hours, a few hundred dollars, and a few drinks later, Tyler gazed with satisfaction at his winning hand until he caught sight of one of the saloon girls sweeping down the stairs in a pink gown that he had reason to remember very well. His hand halted over his stack of coins. Instead of raising the ante, he laid his cards out and collected his winnings while following that pink dress through the crowded saloon with his gaze. He felt fury simmering, a fury that he had long ago buried and thought under control until a certain infuriating female had appeared in his life.

He wasn't going to let her do this to him. He was comfortable, with nothing to lose. He had no reason to fight, no reason to get angry, and all the world was at his feet. He ought to just sit back down and continue with his game, but he was on his feet and following that pink gown without giving his actions a second thought.

From out of the corner of her eye, Starr watched Tyler rise and noted his direction. For a saloon this far west the Red Eye had a certain elegance, and Tyler Monteigne's formal frock coat and tie suited it well. The cowboys lined along the polished mahogany bar with its brass railings were the ones who looked out of place. One of these days, if she had her way, there would only be men in suit coats and hats lined up in here. But the saloon wasn't hers yet, and she couldn't treat it as if it were.

Still, she had an interest in the girls under her command, and giving the cowboy at her side a light buss to the cheek, Starr whispered a few promises and set out after Tyler.

She literally cut him off at the pass, accepting the drink he was offering to Rose and sending the other girl back to a customer needing attention.

Tyler sipped his drink and eyed the garish blonde who had intercepted his questions. Starr had a good head on her shoulders, and some other more unique assets. He let his gaze drift down to admire them as she expected, then returned to watching her face.

"I don't like men, Monteigne," Starr informed him with a smile that said otherwise. "They're a passel of lying, cheating bastards with only their own self-interest in mind."

Tyler admired the performance. She was almost as good as Evie, but Evie lied with a cheerful insouciance that made you want to believe her. He just wanted to smack Starr. He waited politely.

When she didn't ruffle him, Starr gave him a look of annoyance. "You're a smug bastard. I don't know what that schoolteacher sees in you. She certainly deserves better, but I guess she's not likely to find anyone else out here, unless it's those Harding men. They're a bit tough for a young girl like that."

Tyler felt his earlier irritation growing with leaps and bounds. "I'll thank you to keep Mrs. Peyton out of this."

"Mrs. Peyton, is it? Is that what you call her when you've got her in bed? Get out of here, Tyler Monteigne, and go do the right thing by that poor widow woman so she won't have to be selling her gowns to eat." With that pronouncement, Starr slapped her glass down on the bar and walked away.

The effect was the same as if she had thrown the whiskey in his face. Tyler stood, stunned, watching as Starr found a new customer and left him standing there. He glanced around to see if anyone else had heard, but the bar was too rowdy and no one was paying him any mind. Sick to his stomach, he paid his tab and headed for the door.

The air outside didn't serve to cool his head any. After the rain, the weather had returned to its normal sun and heat, and there wasn't a sign that it had ever been anything else. Even the nighttime held the hint of the summer to come.

It didn't make any sense, but he turned his feet in the direction of the livery and the little house behind it. Evie was surrounded by children, and he couldn't talk to her. She was probably asleep. There wasn't anything he could say. He had thought her wealthy. She and the boy were always tricked out in expensive clothes and carried a fortune in whatnots with them. But he felt like the biggest jerk alive and kept walking.

She was selling her gowns to whores. He would wring her neck for that. He was her husband, damn it. She should have come to him first. She had no business even talking to women like that. The memory of that night when he had found her coming down the stairs of the saloon still rankled. Evie was too innocent to have to deal with the likes of that.

The house was dark when he arrived. Tyler knew they were all asleep. He stopped in the shadows of the hotel and tried to decide what to do. He knew what he ought to do: he ought to get the hell back to the hotel and sleep it off. But that wasn't what he wanted to do.

While he was standing there contemplating which dark window might conceal Evie, Tyler caught a furtive movement at the side of the house. He thought his eyes tricked him at first, but then the shadow moved again, and its bulk was discernible. Even half-drunk as he was, he could figure out what a shadow of that size represented.

He reached for the six-gun he carried in these hostile environs. He hadn't wanted to wear weapons ever again, but it hadn't taken him long to discover why these Texans always wore enough guns to start a war. If it wasn't Indians or rattlesnakes or raging steers, it was gallows bait like this one that tested a man's endurance. Tyler clicked the hammer back and started forward, only to hesitate at the sight of a second shadow approaching from the rear.

He didn't have to stretch his imagination to figure out who that slender silhouette was. It would be a repeat of this afternoon if he didn't snatch that skillet away from her. He really wasn't in the mood for tangling with a man that size again if he could avoid it.

"Evie, get your rear end back in that house before I paddle it. You, sir, better move away from those windows before she brings that skillet down over your bald pate, and I have to shoot you for getting between us." Tyler stepped from the shadows of the hotel into the alley, brandishing his gun.

The giant growled and swung around to stop the skillet he remembered altogether too well. He wasn't quick enough. It swung down and smashed the hand he reached with, and he howled.

Evie stepped in and removed his gun before stepping back out of his grasp again. She threw Tyler a look of unconcern as he approached. "I want to talk to the man, Tyler. Just hold that gun on him awhile longer."

"You've got a gun, now. Why don't you hold it on him?" Tyler asked derisively, irritation overcoming his usual even temper. She had a way of doing that to him that wasn't healthy for either of them.

Evie shot him a look that didn't bode well for later, but turned her attention back to her captor. "What's your name, sir?"

The giant gauged the distance between himself and a woman with a gun, and answered cautiously, "Logan."

"And what is your interest in a man named Peyton?"

That made the bullheaded man look up. "He owes me money."

Evie was dressed only in a nightgown and a robe that was little more than gauze, and her feet were bare. She held the gun steady. "Who is Peyton?"

The man glared at her. "You're the one with his name. Where is he?"

Tyler watched Evie's lips clench in a formidable frown and knew they weren't getting anywhere soon at this pace. He had seen Evie in a rage before. He returned the pistol hammer to its seat and let the click bring Logan's attention back to him. "Just tell the lady everything you know about Peyton and why you're looking for him."

Logan looked as if he were ready to bite someone's head off, but faced with two guns he had little choice other than to reply. "I haven't seen the man in over twenty years. He borrowed all I had and took off for California, promising to come back in a year, a wealthy man. Ain't seen him since. I trusted that scum, thought he was a gentleman. I've learned better since then. Now I don't loan nobody nothing, and I keep what's mine. That money is mine, and I want it."

"Was he from around here?" Evie asked.

Logan glared at her. "You ought to know." As she lifted the gun menacingly, he scowled. "Yes, he was from around here. I worked out at the Double H, and his folks owned a piece of land back east of here. His mother was a 'breed, and folks don't cotton much to them 'round here."

Evie prodded him further. "How old was he when you knew him? What did he do for a living?"

Tyler gave her an odd look but remained silent.

"How in hell should I know how old he was? Twenties, I reckon. He was old enough to get drunk at the saloon and start fights. He used to draw pictures of people in the bar and they'd pay him for them, but he drank and someone always said something about his mother, and then the fun would start. All I want is my money back, lady. If you don't know where he is, I'll be on my way."