He turned on his heel and left the house. Sharisse ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.
What was she going to do? She couldn’t go through that again. What on earth was she going to do?
Nine
Lucas tied his horse outside the saloon and sauntered inside. Only a few men looked up, but those who did watched curiously as he moved to the long bar and ordered whiskey. It wasn’t often that Lucas Holt came to town, even less often at night.
Lucas finished a glass of whiskey, and when Ben offered him another, he grabbed the bottle without a word and moved to an empty table. He surveyed the room slowly, but it was just the usual crowd that hung out at Whiskers’s place—except for Leon Waggoner, sitting in on a card game. Lucas watched the Newcomb Ranch foreman, and, as he watched, he drank from the bottle.
He had never liked Leon. The man just rubbed him wrong. Too, Newcomb was a king in the town he had founded, so anyone who worked for Newcomb was treated with near-reverence, and it had gone to Leon’s head from the start. Now he was what you might call the town tough, and he had the weight and build to carry it off. No one messed with Leon. Too bad he always managed to make himself scarce whenever Slade came to town, Lucas thought cynically.
Leon was blissfully unaware of the cold green eyes boring into his back. He was on a winning streak, and the three regulars he was playing with weren’t taking it too kindly. Yet not one of them dared protest. They knew his temper and weren’t likely to provoke it. He was in a good mood, but it would just take one of them trying to leave the game to put Leon in a bad mood. It had happened before. Will Days had got a broken nose once for doing just that.
Henry Foster, sitting across from Leon, was getting desperate. He had already lost more than he could afford to. In another hand or two he would be dipping into the mortgage money, and his wife would kill him. They owned the only gun store in town, but the town wasn’t big and business had never been good. They had ended up getting deeper and deeper into debt with the bank, and it didn’t look like they would ever get out. And there he was, gambling. Would he never learn? If only Leon would decide to call it a night.
Henry had seen Lucas Holt come into the saloon. It wasn’t to his credit, but Henry had always been intimidated by men of Holt’s caliber. The quiet ones were worse than the braggarts like Leon. He didn’t know Lucas personally and didn’t want to. It was enough that he had sold ammunition to his brother once and liked to sweat a bucketful before that man left his shop. That was the kind of man, well, you just stayed out of his way, period. Who was to say Lucas wasn’t just like him? He certainly didn’t look friendly.
A thought occurred to Henry. Anything to get this game over with without looking like he meant to get out.
“You know, Leon,” Henry began, clearing his throat nervously, “Mr. Holt has been showing a mighty keen interest in you ever since he came in.”
“Which Holt?” Leon swung around until his eyes met Lucas’s. Then he turned back with an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, that one.” He raked in the pot, but without much enthusiasm.
Henry persisted. “I wonder why he keeps staring at you?”
“Maybe he admires the cut of my clothes,” Leon growled. “Shut up and deal.”
It hadn’t worked. Henry swallowed hard. He just couldn’t go on. He had to risk Leon’s anger by bowing out. Better now than later, after he was really broke.
“You’ve cleaned me out, Leon,” he said. He rose, hoping for the best. “I’ve got to call it a night.”
Before Leon could tell him to dig deeper into his pockets, the other two men both rose quickly and chimed in with the same excuse.
“What kind of chickenshit is this?” Leon demanded belligerently. “Just because I won a few hands…oh, go on then,” he finished testily. He began stuffing his winnings into his pockets.
All three men were quick to leave the saloon. Leon Waggoner didn’t give them another thought. It had been a good night. He was glad he had decided to come into town instead of waiting for Saturday night, when he joined the ranch hands for their weekly hellraising. He planned to stay the night, making use of Sam’s private suite at the hotel. He might even get one of Rosa’s girls to spend the night with him. They shouldn’t be too busy on a week night, and they would appreciate the luxury of Sam’s suite as a nice change from the whorehouse.
He got up to leave and caught Lucas Holt’s eyes on him again. What the hell? Half the town might be leery of this man because of his brother, but Leon wasn’t. Lucas was just another greenhorn from the East as far as Leon was concerned. So what if he had some dealings with Sam? Sam didn’t exactly trust him anymore, not after the way Fiona had carried on around the man.
He was still staring, damn the man. Leon moved casually over to his table, plopping a boot up on the empty chair next to Lucas and leaning forward.
“I hear you’re gettin’ married, Holt. Hear tell she’s a real looker.”
“So?”
Leon chuckled nastily. “You don’t usually come to town at night. What happened? You and your fiancée have a little spat?”
Lucas set his half-empty bottle aside. Leon didn’t match him for height, but he was brawny, so he ought to give a good accounting of himself, Lucas was thinking.
“I don’t think I like you discussing my future bride, Leon,” Lucas replied in a softly menacing voice.
“Hell, everyone’s discussin’ her,” Leon said, unperturbed. “A new gal in town is news. One who’s come here to get married is even bigger news. Tell me, is she as good lookin’ as I heard?”
“Perhaps you didn’t understand me.”
“Oh, I understood you, Holt.” Leon grinned wryly. “But I don’t give chickenshit what you like or don’t like. You may have a brother who’s pretty fast with a gun, but that don’t mean you are. I’m pretty fast myself—or ain’t you heard? I figure I can take you any day.”
Lucas smiled a most unpleasant smile. “You think so, Leon? As it happens, what I know about guns I learned from Slade. I don’t think you want to find out firsthand what all he taught me. But take your gun off, and I’ll make it clear to you that I won’t have you discussing my bride.”
