The henchman again pulled Mr. Berkley in front of his body, then glowered at Sterling. “If I return to Claude empty-handed, I’ll be the dead man.”
Sterling didn’t want to chance Mr. Berkley going anywhere near Claude again. The best thing was for him to remain atthe ranch. Violet and Hyacinth could tend to his wounds, then Beckett could get him settled into the bunkhouse.
“Mr. Berkley is staying.” Sterling spoke in his most authoritative tone. “I’ll go back to town with you in his place.”
The fellow’s eyes widened.
“You can go with me to the bank,” Sterling offered. “Then you can take me directly to Claude after that.”
The henchman hesitated for a few more long seconds. Then he shoved Violet’s father away from him. The move was unexpected, and Mr. Berkley stumbled forward, then fell to his knees in the matted grass.
Violet gave a soft cry of distress and tried to break free. This time, Sterling let her go. She shuffled past him, then down the steps and across the grass.
In the next instant, Hyacinth was running toward Mr. Berkley too.
Beckett stepped beside Sterling, his expression grave. “You’re giving away all of your savings?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re selling off a dozen steers for the rest.”
Sterling nodded.
Beckett blew out an exasperated breath. “I hope she’s worth it, boss. I really do. Because you’re giving up everything for her.”
Sterling knew he’d done the right thing. But a sick feeling settled in his stomach—the feeling that he hadn’t given up everything yet and the worst was yet to come.
20
Sterling placed the stack of cash in front of Claude where he sat alone at the gaming table.
In the middle of taking a puff on a limp cigar, the tiny man paused and eyed the cash. With a head of thinning red hair, a narrow mustache, pasty white skin, and a slight frame, the saloon owner was not the man Sterling had expected.
The gaming room was also not what Sterling had expected. It was filled with morning sunshine, the several tables with chairs were immaculate, the floor was spotless, and the air held a fresh lemon scent.
Several of Claude’s men stood near the door, including the scar-faced one who had been in charge of the operation and apparently went by the name of Tiny.
“What’s this?” Claude’s voice came out surprisingly deep and coarse for a man of his small stature.
Tiny cleared his throat. “It’s the payment for Mr. Berkley’s debt. Or at least, most of it.”
“I’ll have the final three hundred to you in a few days.” Sterling pushed the cash closer to Claude. “Just as soon as I get back from selling some of my beef.”
Claude sized up Sterling, his hard eyes taking him in from his hat down to his boots. He was still wearing his Sunday best in preparation for the wedding that hadn’t taken place.
A wedding.
The whole ride into town with Claude’s men and all the while at the bank, Sterling hadn’t been able to contain the disappointment that was building inside him. He’d been so close again to getting married to Violet. He’d washed up, shaved, and changed into a suit in preparation. But would they need a wedding now?
The truth was, now that Sterling was paying off the debt, Claude would have no more reason to come after Violet and Hyacinth. They would be free to come and go as they pleased without any worry about being turned into dancehall girls.
“Did you count it?” Claude asked another fellow, one wearing a suit and glasses, his hair slicked back. He looked like he might be a bookkeeper rather than a henchman.
The fellow nodded. “It’s seventeen hundred.”
Claude flipped through the bills, tapped a finger on the top of the stack, then nodded at it.
The bookkeeper stepped up to the table, gathered the money, and slipped it into a leather satchel.
