Under a Texas Star (10 page)

"Except if he had to pay for them," her twin Juliet interjected.

According to Arnie, Strothers had a running tab for food and drinks that as far as he knew was still outstanding. Gambling and other entertainment, however, was strictly cash. The former was his special vice. Strothers had a fascination for the roulette wheel and unfounded faith in his own luck.

Arnie chuckled. "I'd reckon the house won enough of that man's pay to cover a few meals."

Louis wasn't a fountain of information, but like most he had an opinion to express about Strothers.

"That cochon! Sent back one of my finest dishes. Now, mon fils, take this home for your supper." He handed her one of the goose pies she had been helping him make. "But do not tell the Englander."

Only Fred saw the direction of Marly's inquiries. Fortunately for her, he took no offense.

"Miss Jezebel did not like Marshal Strothers," he said. "I doubt that the late marshal had the wit to recognize this. Miss Jezebel is a business woman and it was good business to have Strothers around."

"Would it be good business to pay him?"

"The Oasis and the bank guaranteed his wages when he was hired. Miss Jezebel allowed him to run a tab for meals to encourage his patronage. He never paid for a meal or drinks at the hotel or The Haven either, as far as I am aware. Since The Oasis does not engage in any illegal activity, bribery was unnecessary and blackmail does not apply."

Marly raised a brow.

Fred lifted his chin. "Whatever Miss Jezebel's personal feelings toward Marshal Strothers, she was quite put out that he got himself killed."

"What
are
her personal feelings?"

"I know she was disappointed when Master Jason turned down the position. Strothers was as good as anyone else, excepting Master Jason."

Marly took a moment to digest this.

"They're very close, aren't they?"

Fred gave her a look that made her uncomfortable. "I had recently been employed by Miss Jezebel when we were forced to abandon her establishment in Richmond. Being somewhat more prescient than most, Miss Jezebel was prepared for the evacuation. She had every intention of making a clean getaway, but she has a softer heart than she lets on."

"What happened?"

"We helped several wounded soldiers. Miss Jezebel took a particular interest in one. Master Jason. We nursed him when he was injured and brought him home to Texas. Over the years, Master Jason has had opportunity to pay Miss Jezebel back for her kindness and she has taken an interest in his career." Fred let out a slow sigh. "So, yes, they were close."

Marly noted the 'were', but decided to quit while she was ahead.

A thoughtful silence descended.

Fred mixed up his famous biscuits and directed her to grease the cooking pans. He showed her how to roll out the dough into a large rectangle, then cut it into diamonds. She put the first trays into the oven before asking about Señora de Vegas

"If you wish to know about the Señora, you should ask the Señora."

"I just wondered what happened to her husband," she said. "I didn't want to bring up such a painful topic with her."

"Señor de Vegas, as I understand, was a very wealthy gentleman of a noble family. Despite this, he fought for Mexican independence and later for Texas."

"He must've been quite old by the time he married the Señora."

"Yes, and she was very young." Fred paused in his mixing and shrugged as if shifting a weight on his shoulders. "Her husband and two sons were kidnapped when they were in Mexico. The Señora went to
Austin
to appeal to the governor for help. I was taking care of some business in Austin for Miss Jezebel and was able to use some of her contacts to get things moving. I am afraid it was too late."

"What happened?"

"Señor Fred enlisted Señor Strachan's aid on my behalf," Señora de Vegas said from the doorway. "I will always be grateful to him for that."

A slow blush crept up Fred's face.

"I-I hope you don't mind me asking, Señora," Marly stammered.

"I am neither offended, nor surprised by your curiosity, Señor Landers."

Marly concentrated on her work, hoping someone would continue the story. She wasn't disappointed.

"Señor Strachan was able to track down one of the pistoleros hired to do the kidnapping," the Señora explained. "He discovered that it was my husband's own family who made the arrangements and he confirmed my worst fear. I knew there was bad blood between my husband and his brother's family. I never imagined they would go to such lengths. They wanted the American property, of course. They were prevented from claiming it, but there was no proof of the murders, so they are still free."

"In the meantime," Fred added, "I brought the Señora here while things were being sorted out. She had no place else to go. Her family is in Mexico. There she is vulnerable to attack."

"What about the ranch?" Marly asked.

"Sold," the Señora said. "I did not want to keep it."

"You have some money left," Fred pointed out. "You could take it and start a new life."

"I like my life well enough for now. I can be useful here. Speaking of which, I came to tell you that Señorita Jezebel wishes to see you."

"Very well," he said. "Master Landers, the batch in the oven should be done. Put a few of them in this sack. I picked some tomatoes and a cucumber from the kitchen garden for you and the marshal. Just don't tell Louis."

"I won't." Louis was the least of her worries.

Leaving The Oasis, she headed for the Marshal's Office. Jase was sitting on the office porch when she arrived. He was oiling one of the spare rifles and had two more propped against the wall.

"Expecting trouble?" she asked, pausing on the steps.

"Payroll is comin' in tomorrow. Town will be a magnet for every cowboy, drifter and gambler in the area. Might be my best chance to corner some of Baker and Egan's men." He checked the action on the rifle. "Also a good chance there'll be trouble."

Jase followed her into the office.

As she divvied up dinner, he locked up the weapons. He didn't seem particularly worried, so she tried not to be. The smell of gun oil and black powder undermined her efforts.

It felt as though they were preparing for a siege.

Thursday morning, Marly was kicked out of bed before dawn. She hadn't slept well. Her mind was too busy thinking about the next day. It was still buzzing as she washed and dressed.

There were certain things she had to do to maintain her disguise. Chiefly, she had to flatten what little she had above the waist and augment what she lacked below the waist.

Bleary-eyed, she was making adjustments to the rolled sock in her drawers as she entered the office. Mr. Winters and Troy Riley were leaning over the marshal's desk and turned at the sound of the door opening.

Marly tried to back out again, but Jase beckoned her in.

"Mrs. Winters has made us muffins for breakfast."

"That's great." Forcing her voice down an octave, she asked, "Want me to pour coffee, sir?"

"We're good. If you hurry, you might have time for a cup before we leave. Strap your gun belt on first. And fetch your coat. It's cold this morning."

Minutes later, weighed down by her sidearm and the oversized riding coat, Marly forced herself to eat, even though anticipation was making her stomach roil. She had never felt so small and out of place than among these powerful men. Riding out to escort the payroll in their company seemed ludicrous, but she didn't have the nerve to raise an objection.

Outside, Hank waited with their horses.

"Good luck, gentlemen," Winters said, giving Jase and Riley a nod. He slapped a hand down on Marly's shoulder, almost causing her knees to buckle. "The marshal says you're ready for this, boy. Do him proud."

They intercepted the stage an hour's ride out of Fortuna. It took the stage twice that long to make the same distance.

All the way back, Marly rode with her Winchester carbine across her lap, one hand holding it secure, while the other handled the reins. There was an unnerving moment when she spotted a group of men riding parallel to the road.

"Unofficial escorts," Riley said. "From Baker's and Egan's ranches."

The stage rolled into town at eleven o'clock. Mr. Winters was there to meet them and help escort the courier to the bank. There was still counting and checking to be done before the doors would open for business.

In the meantime, there was a growing cluster of cowboys all wanting to be the first in line for their pay. Jase buttonholed Tierny and with his help, herded them into a long, ragged line.

Marly was relieved from duty and sent back to the office to secure the extra arms and ammunition they had carried. That included, Jase pointed out, the Remington revolver.

"Sorry, brat," he said. "You're just not ready for the kind of trouble packin' iron in town could bring you."

She made a token protest, but was happy to lay down her arms and the accompanying responsibility.

"Coming back for dinner?" she asked.

"Don't think so. Thought I might check out The Haven once I'm done here. Will you be okay?"

"Arnie owes me a meal. I'll be okay."

She had a few other chores to do besides stowing the gear, and it was almost an hour before she locked up and headed for The Oasis.

When she stepped inside, she almost didn't recognize the place. It brought back her first impressions of the saloon. The ladies were wearing their working
clothes―opulent décolletage gowns garnished with a profusion of feathers and glitter. The piano had been moved to the stage usually reserved for Jezebel's table. The piano player, a handsome black man in a striped shirt and bowler hat, accompanied one of
the ladies as she sang about the man who'd left her. Behind the bar, Arnie poured drinks and collected empty glasses. He was accompanied by the big bruiser, who usually only worked nights. The dining room was filling up and the casino was already crowded.

Marly almost backed out again, but Arnie waved her over to the bar.

"I'm glad to see you," he said, sounding frazzled. "Could you go down and bring up another case of whiskey? I just can't seem to get away."

Marly nodded and he tossed her the key.

From then on, she didn't stop moving. The ladies served the tables, but they didn't always have time to clear them. Breaks and spills were frequent as spirits rose and the mess kept Marly busy.

At first, she went unnoticed except for the occasional tip thrown her way. As the place got busier, there was more talk about the marshal and his sidekick. Mostly there were a jibes and snide comments. She ignored them until one man caught her off-guard with an outstretch foot. Regaining her balance, she discovered she'd only lost one glass off her tray. It had bounced onto the floor, but didn't break.

As she retrieved it, Marly was gratified to see her prankster's lap fill with beer. A lady, who had been leaning over the man's shoulder, had
accidentally
tipped her glass. With an insincere apology
―and a covert wink in Marly's direction―the lady moved off to find another customer to please.

Marly hid a grin as she straightened.

"Master Landers."

The voice startled Marly. With all the bustle, she hadn't noticed Fred's approach.

"Master Landers, I cou
ld use your services in the kitchen."

She followed him, pausing long enough to slide a tray of empty glasses onto the bar. Arnie gave her a rueful shrug before turning his attention to the men waiting for their whiskey.

One of the men was Locke.

Marly's heart raced. "I'll be there in a moment, Fred."

She picked up an empty tray and followed Locke to the blackjack table. Quietly making the rounds, she wiped up spills and picked up empty glasses, all the while keeping an eye on Locke. The man was a serious player, despite the distraction of the Trilby twins. He drank the best whiskey, judging by its rich amber color, and smoked expensive cigars. It was odd he had so much money to throw around, even if it
was
payday.

Locke ground his cigar into the table leg, then flicked it toward a spittoon, but missed. When he turned away, Marly quickly retrieved it. It was crushed to the point that no bite patterns were visible, but she could see one thing.

It was the J. Fuego brand.

As if aware of her scrutiny, Locke whirled around and caught her gaze.

Uh-oh.

"Boy!" he called.

She froze.

He flipped her a quarter dollar. "Two of Jezebel's best cigars. You can keep the change."

Across the road, The Haven was every bit as busy. Since Duke didn't provide any set entertainment, the chief occupations of the clientele were drinking and playing cards.

Jase sat in a back corner, sipping on a beer and listening. He didn't go unnoticed, but it hardly mattered. He wasn't expecting to hear a confession. He wanted to discover the kind of men that worked for Egan and Baker. Payday gave him ample opportunity.