Stronger Than the Rest (13 page)

“I’ll consider a partner. Either of the Denver businessmen may be interested in that rather than buying it outright.” She referred to Ira Walsh and Louis Dunnigan. At this point she had no preference. Eloise turned back to the men. “Do either of you have thoughts on someone local?”

“There’s always Grant Taylor. His land butts against yours and he’s expressed an interest in expanding. Not sure why he’s remained silent,” Frank said.

Eloise thought she knew. Grant and Gordon had been partners when they’d started years ago. A rift had developed and the men split up, but her husband had always thought he’d been cheated. It was Grant’s bullet that had killed Gordon. She didn’t hold it against him—he’d had no choice.

“You’re right. I should speak with him and the bank manager. He may have ideas, also.” Her voice resigned, she walked to the coffee pot that sat on a nearby table and filled each of the men’s cups again.

“The issue now is your safety until a solution is found. Let me ask around in town and see if there are any men willing to work for food and a place to live, maybe a small monthly pay. They may not have much ranch experience, but if they’re good with a gun it could be worth having extra people around.” Frank knew of a couple of young men down on their luck who might jump at such an offer.

“I’d appreciate that. And thank you for coming here to warn us. We’ll work it out, I’m sure of it.” Eloise tried to keep a positive tone, but her broken voice betrayed her attempts.

“It’s my job, Mrs. Bierdan. Can’t say it’s a pleasure to deliver warnings, but it’s part of what I do. Let me know if you or your men experience any other instances, or see that Luther fellow. I sure would like to find that man.”

So would I
, Jeff thought as the sheriff left.
So would I.

******

Pierce watched his new boss work his way around the crowded saloon. Connor had come to him a few days before, offering work at the Denver Rose, and he’d accepted. A man could always use a few more dollars.

Pierce wasn’t surprised that Connor had been detained in his journey around the large room several times by different women who worked for him. Each fawned over the handsome man but he extricated himself each time with a soft spoken phrase or subtle remark. He was all business.

Connor made his way toward Pierce and stopped.

“Pierce,” Connor acknowledged his new employee.

“Connor.”

“You look like you have a comment you want to make.” Their eyes met briefly, then Connor’s eyes moved back to the crowd.

Pierce wondered what had given him away. “Just wondering how a man keeps his sanity—says no—when surrounded by women offering themselves to him at every opportunity.”

Connor’s slight chuckle surprised Pierce. “Who says I always say no?”

The admission surprised Pierce. “Well, it’s good to know the man many consider a cold-hearted bastard actually does have blood in his veins. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I see a fight brewing.” He nodded in the direction of a table where the level of conversation had risen over the last few minutes.

Connor watched him walk across the room, still surprised at the comment Pierce had made. He knew many thought of him as cold, unbending, and they were right. There wasn’t much place in his life for weakness or lack of conviction. A sharp crack turned Connor’s attention to the table where Pierce now stood holding the barrel of his gun and looking at a man on the floor. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened.

“Nelson, help Pierce escort him outside and order a round of drinks for those left at the table,” Connor ordered. Nelson was the other man he’d hired to replace those Ira had riding to Cold Creek. Nelson had been coming to the bar each week for quite a while looking for work. Said he’d do whatever was needed if a job was available. Connor knew him to be fast with a gun and slow to anger—both traits Connor admired.

“Yes, sir, Boss,” Nelson replied.

The remaining men at the table nodded their thanks to Connor and continued on with their card game. Nothing like a drunk cowboy on a losing streak to change the mood of a place.

“Good evening, Connor.”

The soft voice was accompanied by an arm slipping through his. “Lola. How are you doing tonight?” he asked without making any attempt to disengage himself from her grasp. She was a nice woman, a little older than him, and accommodating. Her makeup was more subdued than most of the girls at the Rose, and her dresses a little more conservative—not much, but enough to set her apart.

“I’m good. A little tired but that’s normal, don’t you think?” Her light blue eyes lifted to his.

“Yes, I do think that’s normal.” A slight grin cracked his stern features. She was the only pleasure he allowed himself these days and even that was rare.

“Thought I’d go on upstairs, if that’s all right with you. Seems you have plenty of ladies to handle what’s needed.”

“That’s fine, Lola. We’re fine down here.” He dropped his arm from hers and watched her ascend the wooden staircase. There’d been many women like her in his past and no doubt there’d be more. But there was something different about Lola. Maybe it was her past and that her work in the saloon hadn’t turned her hard, bitter, like most soiled doves. Whatever it was, he hoped she’d find someone to take her out of this life and find peace.

Connor continued to trace her steps up the stairs and caught site of Ira Walsh making his way down. He stopped a moment to whisper something into Lola’s ear that made her laugh, then continued down and made his way next to Connor.

“You leaving, Ira?”

“I have a supper engagement.” Walsh flicked lint from his black suit. “Some new investors traveled to Denver from San Francisco. They’re interested in merchandise I’m able to import.”

“Will you be back?”

“Not until tomorrow, I’m afraid. I expect the meeting will run quite late.”

“Then I’ll wish you luck.”

Connor watched Ira leave, then searched out Pierce.

“Mr. Walsh is gone for the night. I’ll need you to make a sweep of the upstairs area a few times, just to make sure no one wanders toward his private quarters.”

Most everyone knew the staircase led not only to Ira’s office and lounge area but also to the rooms used by the girls when they worked. The same rooms became their bedrooms when the saloon was closed. Patrons were allowed in the ladies area, but not Ira’s. That was invitation only.

“How often should I check?”

“Each hour until we close, then again just before we lock up.”

“Anything else?” Pierce asked.

“Nope.”

Chapter Eleven

Cold Creek, Colorado

Drew had been working in Grant Taylor’s office the past two days, preparing a proposal to purchase Langdon’s ranch. He had been caught off guard when Grant told him Warren Langdon had indicated he’d had enough and would welcome a sale on fair terms. Grant’s attorney was in San Francisco, so Grant had gone to the only other person he knew who had the experience to prepare the agreement.

Once Louis Dunnigan had approved Drew’s request to help Grant, everything moved fast. The amount offered was quite generous considering considerable work would be needed on the property. He and Grant had a meeting with Langdon that afternoon with the hope of finalizing the sale before Ira Walsh got wind of it.

Tess poked her head into the office. She found Drew engrossed in the papers on the desk, murmuring to himself as he read.

“Good morning. You’ve been holed up in here since before sunrise. Can I help with anything?”

Drew dropped his pen, swept a hand through his hair, and stretched both arms above his head. “Is it still morning?” he teased.

“Just barely. Dinner’s about ready. Father told me what you’re doing for him.” She walked closer to the desk, stopping at the front edge and letting her fingers trail over the polished wood.

Drew watched her fingers grace the desk, wondering what it would feel like to have to those fingers move over his arms, his chest. He cleared his throat and forced his attention to the face of the woman in front of him. “I’m glad to do it. He’s making Langdon a good offer—one that I expect he’ll take and move on.” Drew pulled his eyes from Tess to the outside. He’d hardly noticed the sunrise or morning turning to almost noon.

“What can I do?”

Drew’s gaze fixed back on Tess. “If you’re serious, I could use a set of eyes on this language.” He handed one of the papers to Tess. “Read it. Tell me if it makes sense.”

She took the paper and read through it twice. “I don’t understand what this means, at least not the way it’s written.” She pointed to a long passage midway down the page. “But I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

Drew smiled. It was the same wording he’d struggled with for an hour. “How would you word it?”

Tess took a piece of paper and wrote for several minutes then handed it to Drew. He read and looked up, his eyes sparkling with approval. “This is great. I couldn’t come up with it, but you dashed it out in a few minutes.”

“Glad I could help.” Her face lit up at his complement. “Now, come on to dinner, before you miss it altogether.” She walked behind the desk and gripped the handles on his chair. “I’d be happy to come back after we eat, if you want more help.”’

“Thanks. I just might take you up on that.”

******

Tess and Drew worked together another hour after dinner. She read, made sure she understood what he wanted Langdon to grasp, and suggested changes. There wasn’t much but Drew was grateful for her help. Most of all he was glad to have her near him.

“Well, I guess I’d better check on the new foal again.” Tess stood and started for the door.

“Thanks for your help,” Drew called after her.

Tess turned and walked back around the desk. She bent, and before Drew realized her plans, placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Like I said before, glad I could help.” She strolled out, leaving Drew to stare after her, wanting more.

He rolled his chair into the hallway, deciding the only way to clear his mind was through strenuous work.

“Mr. Jericho, I’d like to proceed with the exercises now, if you don’t mind.”

“Now is fine,” Jericho responded and opened the bedroom door for Drew to wheel through. Drew had just entered his room when a shout came from outside.

“Drew, Mr. Jericho, come quick! There’s a fire!” It was Tess and she sounded frantic. Jericho made it outside to see Tess pointing to some distant smoke in the direction of the Langdon ranch and barn.

Grant had just returned from town when he saw the smoke. “Jake, get the men and some buckets. We’ll head over right away.” He turned to Tess. “Eleanor stayed in town with Joey. Let Maria know what’s happening. I’ll need you to drive the wagon over.”

“I’ll drive.” Everyone looked up to see Drew. He’d made it down the ramp that Jake and a few of the boys had constructed for him. He had no plans to be left behind.

“Are you sure?” Grant asked.

“Nothing wrong with these arms, Grant. Mr. Jericho will be beside me. If I run into trouble, he can take over.” He looked at Tess. “You ride with us.” It was an order, not a request. He wanted her close in case there was trouble. If it was Langdon’s place, the timing was just too coincidental for Drew, and he was a man who didn’t believe in coincidences.

Grant looked around at the people waiting for his order. “Let’s go.”

It was quite a journey to the Langdon ranch, but Grant knew trails that helped quicken the pace. Even with that, over an hour had passed from the time the group left the Taylor ranch to when the Langdon barn came into view. It was in ashes, but the home might still be salvageable.

“What can we do, Warren?” Grant asked as he dismounted.

“I need men to fill buckets. We can form a line.”

“Jake, set the men up and let’s get started. Mr. Jericho, you handle the water pump. Take shifts with a couple of my men when you get tired.”

“Yes, sir,” Jericho responded, rolled up his sleeves, and hurried to the pump.

The work was exhausting. Filling buckets, passing them along the line of men, and tossing the water on the fire. Strong winds had spread the blaze from the barn to the house. Sparks landed on dry grass around the entry and caught, swallowing the downstairs in flames. At least the wind had now slowed.

It took another hour before the fire was contained. No one was injured but the house and barn were gone. The horses had been moved to a large corral, and the little amount of tack recovered lay in a heap a few yards from the smoldering remnants of the barn.

“Any idea how this happened, Warren?” Grant asked when the men were able to take a break.

“It was no accident if that’s what you’re thinking. I saw a group of riders just before the flames erupted. Nothing in that barn would’ve set off a fire like that. It was intentional.” Warren Langdon scowled at the remains of what had been the barn he and his men had constructed the year before. Nothing was left. Not one board-foot. The house was a total loss, but perhaps some furniture and personal effects might be salvageable.