“I’m going upstairs to lie down for a while. A headache is coming on, so I’ll leave you three geniuses to figure it all out.”
“I’ll be up in a little while. Morgan has kindly offered me accommodations.”
“As he should, as all of this is his fucking fault,” she barked over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.
Fancy O’Shea heardCaroline coming up the stairs and quietly closed the door to her room. Something was going on down in the bar, and she preferred to stay out of it. There were other things on her mind.
Soon she would be leaving. She’d been offered a job in Nevada, singing at the Silver Nugget. It wasn’t San Francisco, but it was a decent deal and would move her closer to her destination.
Returning to her bedroom window, she eased the curtain aside. It offered an excellent view of Lillian Piersal’s establishment and her dwelling above the millinery. Weeks of watching and listening were finally beginning to pay off. Something was in the wind. There was no way in hell Lilly was planning to stand trial. Now that the circuit judge was coming, she was sure the bitch that nearly killed Marilee would make her move. When she did, Fancy would be ready.
Last week she intercepted a telegram meant for Lilly. Somehow it had slipped into the envelope Fancy received from Nevada. It appeared Miss Piersal was planning to leave town. Somehow Fancy didn’t think things were going to work out for Lillian, no, not at all.
Several times she’d watched Lilly make the walk from her shop to the marshal’s office. Some days it was straight down the boardwalk, but in the early evening hours Fancy observed Lilly taking an odd route on her nightly constitution. She skirted buildings, eventually reappearing from behind others. At first, she simply thought it was odd. Lilly was not what Fancy would consider intelligent. Then she began to notice the woman frequently looked at the tiny watch she wore on her shirtwaist.
It was a lovely piece, and Fancy had admired it on several occasions. It became clear Lilly was taking note of the time. She wanted to know how long it took her to get to the jail and back. Lilly didn’t stop to chat with others she might encounter, as had been her habit since being released from custody. It seemed she was on a mission.
Fancy told no one about what she’d observed. Word had a way of getting around in a small town and she wouldn’t take the risk. Jane was always quick to gossip, even though she was not around the saloon much anymore. Doctor Brubaker seemed to keep a tight leash on her, but she didn’t seem unhappy. In fact, Jane appeared delighted by his attention.
For her, that would never work. Fancy intended to run her own life and make her own decisions. A man would simply complicate things, especially the men frequently around The Duchess. They appeared to believe they always knew best or had all the answers. It was highly annoying, as far as she was concerned. Callie Mae and the girls had become like sisters to her. She loved them and wished them all great happiness. Putting up with their men…well that was another thing entirely.
Frowning, she watched several women enter Lilly’s millinery and could only imagine the lies that woman was spreading. Stiff with anger, she let the curtain drop back into place. There was no point in fuming about it. Better to keep a watchful eye and wait until Lilly slipped up and she would. Fancy was certain of that. Any woman who thought her looks and scheming ways wouldn’t catch up with her in the end was a fool.
Brushing her flaming hair until it gleamed in the light, Fancy wound it up into a French pleat and pinned it into place. She pinched her cheeks, smoothed her dress and went downstairs. A tall, dark-haired man was just leaving.
“Aren’t you going upstairs?” Mead asked him.
“Not just yet. I thought I’d do a little exploring,” he replied in a deep voice. “It’s not often a man gets this sort of unusual opportunity. I’ll be back in a while.”
“I understand.”
“What do you understand?” Fancy asked as she sidled up to the bar. “Can I have some sweet tea?” she asked Morgan. “It’s there in the pitcher. I made it a little while ago.”
Morgan poured her a glass and passed it across the bar to her.
“What opportunity is he talking about, and what do you understand?” she asked Mead after takin a sip.
“Oh, the chance to visit a place you’d never imagine you would be. I felt much the same when I went back east to have my leg seen to.”
“I see. And where is that man from that he’s never been in a town like this? Hell, they’re scattered from coast to coast. Who is he, anyway? What’s his name?”
“His name is Micah,” Mead explained. “And he’s Caroline’s husband.”
“Honest?” Fancy asked in surprise. “He doesn’t appear to be the sort of man who would beat his wife, but then I guess you really can’t tell, can you?” she continued thoughtfully.
“No, appearances are often deceiving,” Mead agreed. “Take you, for instance.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” Mead said, pouring himself a glass of sweet tea from the pitcher Morgan had placed on the bar. “Looking at you, a man would see an exceptionally pretty young woman with the voice of an angel,” he pointed out before taking a sip. “But after getting to know you better, I can see you’re much more than that.”
“How so?”
“I know you’re remarkably intelligent, and I suspect far more clever and observant than anyone gives you credit for. Tell me, Fancy, what secrets are you keeping?” he asked.
“Now that’s where you are wrong, Mead,” she replied with a smile. Setting her glass down, she twirled in a pirouette and bowed gracefully. “What you see is what you get.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
