He might look like a man most would fear to cross, but somewhere in the man still lived the boy this town had sacrificed so that none of their sons would go to jail.
Laurel waited for one of the men to recognize him, but none seemed to. Too many families had moved in and out in these parts.
Jeffery Filmore, one of the town’s junior bankers, fingered the money. “Mighty lot of money to toss away if you’re no good.”
“I’m good,” Rowdy answered without a hint of brag in his tone.
The banker snuffed. “Might be, might not be. That’s what we’re here to find out.” He shoved a chart toward Rowdy. “List your name and check every event you’re planning on entering. You got to enter at least three of the four to have a shot at the big prize.”
Rowdy wrote his name and drew a line across all the squares.
The banker raised an eyebrow. “You planning on trying them all.”
“I am.”
Filmore shook his head. “Most cowhands sit out one or two that they don’t think they can place in. It’ll give you time to rest and lessen the chances you get busted up on something you don’t have a chance of winning.”
Rowdy took the number off the top of the pile. “I’ve spent enough time resting and I figure I got a chance at them all. You got an objection?”
Filmore stared at him a moment, then backed down. “No, none at all.”
Rowdy turned and walked back toward the livery. He never glanced at the alley shadows, but Laurel had a feeling he knew she was watching him.
She let out a long-held breath. He was registered. She’d been waiting for two years for this chance. If he won, she’d have enough money to run.
When she’d finished school she’d had offers to go to work in Houston and Austin, but her father had insisted she come home to straighten out his books. Three months later, when she had them in good order, she found her small inheritance from her mother had vanished. Her father made sure she had no money to leave. He wanted her to work for him and remain home under his control. Now, after two years, she saw a way out.
Feeling brave, she stepped out of the shadows and walked into the hotel lobby before Jeffery Filmore had time to notice her. The banker had a habit of looking at her the way he looked at his meal when he came to dinner with her father. She was something he planned to have, maybe even enjoy. He hadn’t even asked her yet, but Jeffery Filmore was already talking to her father about setting a date for their wedding. He wanted his ring on her finger and her working in his bank before fall.
Her father’s only hesitation seemed to be that he needed her to do his bookkeeping until after roundup. Neither of the men had ever considered what she wanted. With no funds of her own, her father knew she wasn’t going anywhere and Jeffery knew no other man in town bothered to speak to her. So, to their way of thinking, she was just something to pass from one to the other when the time was right.
Laurel almost laughed as she crossed the empty hotel lobby and entered the small parlor where ladies could have lunch or tea without being exposed to the noisy bar area near the back.
She wasn’t surprised the room was empty. Her sisters would love the thrill and the audience in the back room. It was more a café than a saloon, but Laurel knew her father wouldn’t approve of his darlings sitting among the cowhands. She also knew she’d never tell him because if she did, he’d either laugh or tease her little sisters about how bold they were, or blame Laurel for allowing them to go into such a place.
Sitting by the window, Laurel folded her hands in her lap and waited. The room smelled of pipe smoke. Dust reflected off the furniture as thick as fur in places. The innkeeper obviously saw the room as a bother, but probably kept it to promote the appearance of respectability. He made far more money off the drinks and food in the back.
“Sorry, miss”—a young maid, with hair the color of rust, leaned in the door—“I didn’t know you was there. Would you like something?”
Laurel swallowed hard. “No, thank you. I’d like to just wait here if I may.”