His finger began a tapagainst his thigh. Callihan was a proper villain, one a lady likeher shouldn’t even know of, let alone have a relationship thatwould warrant the man’s killing. “Heard tell he was dead a whileback.”
“Heisn’t.”
She said it with suchconfidence, as if her version of fact trumped everyone else’s.Unease trickled through him. It were lucky none had noticed herinvocation of Callihan’s name. No doubt it would conjure such anevil doer to their presence, or those who thought to follow in hislike. Why would this wren of a woman keep tabs on a bad man likeCallihan? The man was a legend, but not the good kind. No, he wasknown for his ruthlessness, his cruelty, and that he never leftanyone alive. “What did Josiah Callihan ever do to you?”
“That’s mybusiness, and none of yours. I’m willing to pay, and pay well.You’ll be amply compensated for your time.”
“I weren’tworried about that, darlin’. It’s only Josiah Callihan is a badman, and I don’t mix with bad men.” At least, not since he himselfhad grown to a man.
The faintest rising of aneyebrow. “Weren’t you a marshal? Aren’t you now agunslinger?”
“I was.” Andbecause he was feeling a mite contrary… “I don’t hold with the termgunslinger.”
She ignored his lastcomment to focus on the first. “Then don’t you, by definition,associate with bad men?”
He gave a lazy grin,belaying the disquiet in his gut. “Iassociatewith men of abaddish cast, but I got better things to do with my time than wasteit in pursuit of men the calibre of Josiah Callihan.” He’d himselfattempted more times than one to bring the man to justice, but hadfailed at every turn. The man had been at it too long, and knew toomuch about evading those in authority.
Features as smooth asstone, she said, “Are you refusing me, Mr Wade?”
“I don’treckon those words passed my lips. Alls I’m saying is I might needtime to ponder.”
Again, not a flicker ofemotion. It were fascinating, is what it was. “This is more moneythan you’ll see in a year.”
Her words made his smileburdensome. “That may be true, darlin’, but it don’t change myanswer, or hurry it along. I require time to ponder the particularsof your proposal so, if you’ll be so kind as to leave me to mycontemplation and requiescence, I’d be grateful.”
She stood there a fullminute, as if her colourless expression would force his decisionbefore he was of a mind to make it. Then her shoulders straightenedjust the tiniest bit. “I will leave you to your novel, Mr Wade, butI will have my answer tomorrow morning, or I will take my businesselsewhere. You may find me at the Richmond Hotel, under the nameMcElroy.”
He inclined his head, andwatched as she departed the Elephant, her thin shoulders much toostraight for his liking but her stride just aspurposeful.
Strangely, the Elephantseemed less interesting now she was no longer in it. Kicking backin his chair, he lowered his gaze to the novel, but an incompetentgunslinger and his misuse of weaponry could no longer occupy hisbrain.
Why would a young womanwant to do away with a bad man like Callihan? Jake had no doubtCallihan had done her wrong—Callihan was the worst kind of man,killing folk innocent and otherwise, running with his gang, luringimpressionable young boys with more piss than sense and settingthem on a path they still struggled to avoid even though they hadseen thirty-six winters….
He took a breath. Thatwas neither here nor there, and he’d left his past behind. For atime, he’d thought Callihan would be brought to justice, had evenattempted it himself when he was starting out as a marshal. The manslipped the law each time, cautious enough to keep an arm’s lengthbetween himself and the bad doings. All knew it were on his order,but never were his hands stained with the labour. The only way theman would pay for his crimes was if someone shot him dead, thoughan easy death enough to be counted fair payment.
Maybe he would take hermoney, protect her from herself. A woman the likes of her had nobusiness with Josiah Callihan, at least none that would end well.He could ask a few questions, shake a few villains, and report backto her that, sadly, Callihan had slipped the noose once more. Shewould go back to her city life, and he would be a thousand dollarsricher. He’d never before refused easy money and he wasn’t fixingto refuse hers, especially when it fell in his lap. Everyone knewCallihan was untouchable, and it weren’t no skin from his nose ifsome rich lady wanted to pay him anyways.
A city woman like hershouldn’t be here anyways. Her fine clothes and cultured accent sether apart from most everyone in town, and it was clear as she’dstood in the saloon how out of place she’d been. A woman like hershould be sipping tea in her fancy townhouse, not venturing a townstill more rough than polished, striding her way into a saloon toaccost gunslingers in their quiet time.
His gaze drifted to thedime novel, carelessly discarded on the table afore him. What elsedid he have to do with his time?
Kicking up from hischair, he tucked his novel into his belt. There was money to bemade, and a woman wanting an answer.
ChapterTwo
JAKE’S MOUTH WAS AS dry as the dustbowl his pa hadcalled a farm while an awesome hammering had commenced in hisbrain, punctuated with random bolts of acute pain. Groaning, heturned on his side, coughed, and instantly regretted it. Sweetmother of Jesus, he weren’t even aware afore now that such agonywere possible, and he’d been shot any number of times.
Cautiously, he cracked aneye. He didn’t immediately expire, so he opened both and though thepain in his head intensified, he didn’t lose whatever remained inhis stomach. Every muscle in his body protesting, he swung himselfout of bed in incremental stages, resting his ass on the side ofthe bed and burying his head in his hands. Good God and all hisangels, how much whiskey had he drunk last night? He recalled ahand of poker, and a pretty gal coaxing him to drink, and then itwas blank. What had prompted him to imbibe last night? He wouldrack his brain, but the resulting pain would probably drive him tohis knees. Goddamn, what had been in that whiskey?
Wobbling to his feet, hemade his way to the washstand. The mirror showed bloodshot eyes,sallow skin, and the beginnings of a rough beard. He rubbed hishand over the dark stubble covering his jaw, wishing his hand weresteady enough to rid himself of it. Ah, well. He’d seen himselfworse than that, and who was he looking to impress?
Blearily, he examined hisreflection. His hair were beginning to show flecks of grey, thecolour a sharp contrast to the black strands. The wrinkles aroundhis eyes had gotten a sight worse, but that’s what you got whenyour profession was spent out of doors and in pursuit of villains.Maybe he had more trouble reading a newspaper of a morning, but hisquick draw was as quick as ever and he could still sight a man attwenty paces and hit him through the heart.
Abandoning his toilette,such as it were, he pulled on his boots. At least he’d had thepresence of mind to remove them…or had someone other than him donethe deed? He didn’t remember the purchase of a woman, and he wasalmost certain he would have been no use to her if he had. Besides,he’d lost his taste for a bought embrace over the years. Hisarrangement with a widow in Cheyenne suited him fine, and when heweren’t with her, his own hand sufficed.
Colourless eyes andscraped blonde hair.
He blinked. Oh, thewoman. What was her name? McGregor? It was Mc- something. A flashof memory came to him. He was going to accept her offer ofemployment, and he’d been pre-emptively celebrating his imminentwindfall.
