The man didn’t look up from his book as Lewt neared—an easterner’s mistake in any western bar. Lewt only hoped the stranger would live long enough to learn.
“Pardon me, mister, but I was supposed to meet a Duncan McMurray tonight and he doesn’t seem to be around. He said he would be with a gentleman in his late twenties, and you’re the only man in the bar who might fit the description he gave me.”
The stranger looked up. “What description was that?” he said in a bored tone.
“Tall, distinguished, obviously from a good family.” Lewt smiled. Flattery worked every time. “Any chance you are a friend of Mr. McMurray?”
“I know him, but I’ll not call him a friend.”
The stranger had just made his second mistake. Never admit anything to any man until you knew you could trust him.
The stranger moved his book as Lewt set the drinks on the table. “McMurray never said anything about my meeting anyone tonight. In fact, I hadn’t planned to set foot in this place.” His pale eyes studied Lewt from flashy clothes to fancy hand-tooled boots.
Lewt had no doubt the stranger found him lacking, but he didn’t care. “You did get the train ticket and the instructions?”
His question caught the man off-guard.
“Yes,” he stuttered slightly. “And the room key, but I wish to inform Mr. McMurray that the room was not at all satisfactory. I’d rather sit up for the night than be subjected to such filth.”
“Crystal’s rooms are some of the best around, I’ve heard.” Lewt took a seat, acting interested in the complainer’s problems. He served the beer without expecting a thank-you.
“Sir, you wouldn’t believe it, but the sheets were dirty.” The stranger sampled a drink, then showed his distaste for the local brew before taking another swallow. “When I informed the staff I needed the linens changed, they told me it wasn’t Wednesday yet. Can you imagine?”
“Horrible.” Lewt offered his hand. “Harry’s the name. Harry West.” He’d learned a long time ago that people rarely remember common names, and he had no intention of ever seeing this fool again after tonight.
“Walter Freeport the Fourth,” the stranger said. “I don’t know about you, Mr. West, but I’ve seriously considered backing out on this visit my family seems to think might be worth my while. If conditions near the capital are so primitive, what must it be like in the mountains?”
Lewt played along. “I’m inclined to agree with you. One has to wonder what these princesses of Texas must look like if they have to search far and wide and offer passage from anywhere to eligible men. And I’ve even heard that the ranch is in the hills of Texas. The word mountain came when they translated the place from its Indian name.” He lifted two fingers at the bartender, silently ordering whiskey. “It’s said the ranch is so huge, Apache still make winter camps in its hills.”
Fear flashed in Walter’s eyes. He took the whiskey delivered and downed it quickly. Then, somewhat calmed, he raised his eyebrow and studied Lewt’s clothes. He had the look of a man tolerating someone lesser than himself.
Lewt grinned into his beer as he shoved the second whiskey in front of Walter. He was in. Accepted. It might be interesting to spend some time with the stranger. Lewt considered himself a good judge of character and had already figured out that Duncan hadn’t come face-to-face with Walter or he wouldn’t have sent the man a ticket. “This your first time west, Mr. Freeport?”
“And my last,” Walter answered. “If I find one of the McMurray women to my liking, I’ll be making it plain from the beginning that we’ll live north with my family.”
“Wise choice,” Lewt said, thinking this fellow didn’t have a chance of taking a McMurray anywhere. “The women here are beautiful, though,” he added.
“Not from what I’ve seen. One of the girls who works here followed me to my room and offered her services. She wasn’t even pretty and when she had the nerve to touch me, I was forced to slap her hard.” Walter brushed at his coat as if the touch had left a stain.
Lewt gripped the mug in his hand so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised to see the glass shatter. He’d like nothing better than to slam his fist into Walter Freeport the Fourth’s straight little nose. The girl he’d hit was just trying to make a living. She didn’t deserve to be slapped. “What happened?” Lewt finally asked.