Texas Hold Him (17 page)

Dyer rolled his eyes but held his tongue. The sooner
he could get Lottie’s name cleared, the sooner he could get her back to the boat, and time was wasting.

Captain Woodruff came to the door already dressed for the day. “How can I help you, Mrs. Anderson?”

“It appears as though I made a mistake, though it truly wasn’t my fault—”

Dyer cleared his throat.

Mimi glanced up at him and pursed her lips. “I might have been wrong about that saloon girl—”

“Miss Mace,” Dyer corrected.

“
Miss Mace
,” Mimi repeated through clenched teeth.

“What kind of mistake? Wasn’t it your brooch?” the captain asked.

“It was mine, but I’d forgotten I lent it to her.”

The captain rubbed the top of his bald head and frowned. “Oh my, I’m afraid she’s already been removed from the boat.”

“Oh well, what’s done is done.” Mimi turned to leave, but Dyer grabbed her arm to prevent her from escaping. He wasn’t through
with her just yet.

“I’m going to fetch Miss Mace from town,” he said to the captain. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Captain Woodruff checked his pocket watch. “You’d best hurry, Mr. Straights. It’s four thirty now, and the
Belle
will be leaving for Greenville promptly at dawn. I want to make sure we have plenty of time to wood up once we get there.”

“If you’ll wait ’til Miss Mace and I return, I’ll help load the wood myself.”

“Sorry. I can’t be holding up the
Belle
on the whims of my passengers. We have a schedule to keep.” He closed the door, and Dyer agreed with Sally’s opinion on the
captain’s brains.

“Well,” Mimi said, a little too smugly to be healthy, “we tried.”

Dyer pulled her quickly with him down the deck toward her cabin. “The way I got it figured, you have about an hour and a half
to pack.”

“What ever for?”

He spun her around to look at him. “When I get back, you’re to be off this boat. You can either walk down the gangplank or
get pitched overboard. Make your choice.”

Her jaw dropped open. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I think we’ve already established I would.”

She snapped her mouth shut and stormed into her cabin, slamming the door in her wake.

Dyer hurried to his cabin, grabbed his wallet and gun, and rushed off the boat to find Lottie. Time was short, and given the
hour, finding someone who saw her leave the
Belle
wouldn’t be easy.

A long stretch of weathered boards provided floating decking along the river’s edge, and a lone out house sat in a cluster
of trees at the end of the cobblestone loading area. No one was in sight near the small storage building at the edge of the
cobblestones or on the little bench leaning under its drooping wooden eaves. He would start his search with the rooming houses
near the river, and any places Lottie may have decided to wait until businesses opened in the morning. He hurried into the
town of Vicksburg.

“Whew.” Lottie stepped out of the out house near the pier, fanning her hand in front of her nose.

They sorely needed to add lime to that privy. The stench could’ve brought tears to a dead man’s eyes. She situated herself
on a bench near a storage building and
faced the river, careful not to jar her thumping head. She didn’t know if the pain was the result of too much whiskey or the
humiliation of knowing she’d asked Dyer for kissing lessons. Either way, the fact she wouldn’t have to face him again until
St. Louis gave some relief.

The
Magnolia Belle
sat beautifully moored against the bank. The smoke from her stacks indicated a fire already burned to make steam for her
imminent departure. Most of the deck was deserted, but for a woman carrying her valise down the gangplank and into Vicksburg.
She couldn’t see who the woman was, nor did she care. The
Belle
’s business no longer mattered. What she needed was to find another boat heading north in time for the tournament. At least
the next boat wouldn’t have Mimi Anderson or the blackmailer on board.

Lottie had little doubt as to the identity of the blackmailer. Abe Johnson had unnerved her from the moment he’d stepped aboard
the boat. At least now she knew why.

The activity on the deck increased as the sun’s light peeked above the horizon. One of the crewmen untied the
Belle
’s ropes from the pylons before he scrambled on board, and the large paddle wheel came to life. She laid her head against
the building and closed her eyes. Now that the day had begun, she should be able to get some help.

“Miss Mace!” The sound of Dyer’s voice brought her awake with a jolt. She wasn’t even aware she had drifted asleep.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he jogged toward her.

“Looking for you.”

“What ever for?” She tipped her head back to look at
his face. If his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing were any indication, he’d been running.

“To take you back to the
Belle
before she leaves.”

“But—”

Raising his hand to stop her, he said, “There’s no need for you to worry. Mimi admitted she lied, and everything is all right.”

“But—”

“
And
she is no longer on the
Belle
, or at least she’d better not be.”

“But—”

“Captain Woodruff understands what happened, and you can have your job back.”

“But—” She stopped herself that time, figuring to save him the trouble.

He raised his brow. “But
what
, Miss Mace?”

She pursed her lips and pointed to the back end of the
Belle
, chugging its way up the Mississippi. Dyer turned to look in the direction she pointed.

“Hell,” he grumbled. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“
I tried
—”

He grabbed her valise off the bench and headed toward town. “Come, Miss Mace. Don’t dawdle.”

She hurried to keep up with him. “Where are we going?”

“The
Belle
is heading to Greenville, but she won’t be staying there for long. There’s not much left since the war, but the captain is
wooding up there, so we should have a day or two to catch them.”

She lifted the front of her skirts to allow her to move more quickly. His long legs covered a lot of ground, and even the
weight of her valise didn’t slow him
down. He bounded across a street and onto a wooden sidewalk, stepping over mud puddles and horse droppings without breaking
stride. She wasn’t doing quite so well. She’d already stepped in a couple of things that felt rather squishy.

“Where are we going?” The gulp of air she sucked into her lungs did little to relieve the stitch in her side.

“Greenville.”

She followed for a few more minutes before she finally gave up. “If you’re planning to run there, you’re going to have to
do it without me.” She stopped and leaned against a building to gasp air into her empty lungs and rub her aching temples.

He looked at her, shaking his head. “We weren’t running there. We were running here.” He pointed to a sign over her head.

She tipped her head back and squinted up at the sign. “Why are we at a livery?”

“To buy horses, of course.” He walked inside.

“Of course,” she mimicked under her breath, pulling reluctantly away from her resting place to follow him inside. The barn
smelled of horses and hay, and the nickers of the animals greeted them as they entered the dark interior. Someone in the back
pitched hay over the stall doors, whistling an unidentifiable tune as he worked.

Lottie wasn’t sure how much it cost to purchase a carriage and horses, but it couldn’t be cheap. She would be sure to repay
him as soon as she won the tournament.

“What can I do for you, sir?” The fellow feeding the horses tossed his last bit of hay into a stall and headed toward them.
He took a kerchief from his pocket, wiping his brow as he walked.

“I’d like to buy two horses,” Dyer said.

Lottie waited politely for him to add the, “and a carriage” part, but when he didn’t, she tugged on his coat sleeve. “No carriage?”

“I don’t know of the condition of the road between here and Greenville. Besides, horse back will be faster.”

She swallowed. “You want me to ride a horse?”

He sighed. “I imagine that would be faster than if you tried to carry it.”

“I—I don’t ride horses.”

He raised his brow. “What do you ride?”

“Carriages.”

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“When I was a child, but I swear, I don’t think I could stay on top now.” She’d never mastered the sidesaddle her heavy gown
would require, and the thought of climbing on a strange horse terrified her.

Dyer turned back to the owner of the stable. “Make that one horse and tack.”

Lottie’s shoulders sagged. Not that she could blame him for giving up on her. She’d been nothing but trouble, and he could
get to the tournament much faster without her. Her best bet now was to return to the waterfront and find a job on the next
boat heading upriver. A tear filled the corner of her eye, but she blinked it back quickly. When this was all over, she intended
to cry herself silly . . . and maybe even swoon, but a good swooning took time, and she didn’t have any of that to spare.

“Well, Mr. Straights.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Thank you for all your help. Perhaps we will meet up
in St. Louis.”

She left the livery quickly on the off chance the cry
would come ahead of schedule and stepped into the warm light of the morning sun. She wished she’d paid closer attention to
where they’d gone when they rushed through the streets and alleys to the livery. Though right now, the most important thing
was to get away from Dyer.

“Miss Mace?” Speak of the devil.

He stood behind her with a large sorrel gelding and a look that questioned her sanity.

“Where are you going?”

“St. Louis,” she answered.

He pointed north. “St. Louis is that way.”

She pointed south. “But the river is that way.” Or at least she hoped it was. “And I need to catch a boat.”

“The boat we’re going to catch is in Greenville.” He grabbed her around the waist, quickly depositing her on the back of the
horse. He strapped her valise to the back and climbed on behind her, clutching the reins to calm the prancing animal before
it could dump them into the street.

Lottie grabbed the horse’s mane, holding her breath until Dyer had him under control and heading out of town.

She relaxed a little when it appeared as though Dyer knew what he was doing. “What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“The horse.” She released the mane, though she kept her hands at the ready in case she needed to grab it in an emergency.
“It’s much easier to control the animal if you can call it by its name.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes.” She had the sneaking suspicion he made sport of her. “Did the owner tell you his name?”

“Actually, he did, and he said the horse wouldn’t do anything you asked unless you called him by his given name.”

Just as she thought. “Well? What’s his name?”

“Peckerhead.”

She gasped. “It is not!”

She could feel his shoulders shrug behind her. “I didn’t name him, that’s just what the man told me.”

“Who would name a horse something like that?”

“My daddy had one named Son of a Bitch.”

“I don’t believe that either.”

“You never met the horse.”

Dyer led Peckerhead over a log in the road and around a very large puddle, figuring he was probably going to Hell for tormenting
Miss Mace so much. If
that
wasn’t enough for Hell, his fate was definitely sealed for enjoying the tormenting like he did. This time, however, she deserved
it. How could she have thought for one minute he would leave her alone in some strange town? He hadn’t run himself ragged
looking for her only to leave her at the last minute.

“I think we’re going to need to change his name.” She snuggled her rump a little closer into his crotch, and for a second
he forgot whose name needed to be changed.

“We can’t change his name,” he said. “It would confuse him.”

“How can a horse get confused?”

He wrapped his arm around her waist with the pretense of keeping her in the saddle while he guided Peckerhead around a branch
in the road. “Imagine how you would feel if someone changed your name.”

“It happens to women every time they marry.”

She had a good point, but then she did that a lot. “That explains why women are so confused.” He allowed himself a grin only
because she couldn’t see it.

“We are not!”

“If you weren’t confused, why do you constantly need men to rescue you?” Her body tensed against his, and he wasn’t sure,
but he thought he saw steam come from her ears.

“Did I ask you to rescue me?”

“No, because that would have been the sensible thing to do.”

“
Sensible?
The sensible thing for me to have done was to wait in town for the next boat.” Her voice rose in pitch and had a little shake
to it that told him he traveled on thin ice.

“Sitting alone on that old bench?”

“It would have been better than sitting out here on a Peckerhead!” She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

“Sorry, I’ll try to make more room in the saddle.”

His grin nearly split his face in two. If her back got any straighter, it would snap like a twig, and if her ears were an
indication, her face was red enough to glow in the dark. Yup, he was definitely destined for Hell, but even those dire consequences
didn’t deter him any.

“So, you think you could’ve managed all by yourself? With no help from me or Peckerhead?” he asked, innocently.

“I am changing that horse’s name.”

“To what?”

She paused for a moment, evidently to think of an appropriate name, and then said, “Blaze.”

Dyer leaned around her shoulder to look over the horse’s ears and down his plain red face. “He doesn’t have a blaze. But he
does
have a peck—”

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Straights.”

He allowed himself a chuckle. Her admonishing tone was pretty damned cute, but the effect it had on him was probably not what
she’d intended. He straightened in the saddle, casually pulling her closer to his chest as he moved. Then he leaned forward,
brushing his lips against the shell of her ear.