ain’t got no problem with you lovin’ my sister, I’m tellin’ you right now that I ain’t ridin’ all that way back with the two of you tryin’ to spoon behind my back. There’s a preacher. Get the words said now and ride back to the ranch man and wife.”
Beau swallowed nervously as Charity smiled up at him. “I ain’t got anythin’ to offer her except me.”
Mehitable butted in one last time. “It’s true you ain’t got much now, but marry my sister and I reckon you’ll be ownin’ the ranch one day.”
Beau took a deep breath. “Then if you’ll have me, Charity Doone, I’d be honored.”
Charity hesitated. Her girlish dreams of a fancy wedding and a party to boot had ended in Randall Howe’s bed. Mehitable was right. There was no time to waste. Not when a good-looking man like Beau James was willing to overlook what she’d done.
“As would I, Beau James.” Then she whispered for his ears only. “You will always be my hero.”
A sideways grin tilted the corner of his mouth. He nodded and turned to the man he’d almost killed.
“Uh, say… preacher?”
“Yes?” Eulis asked.
“If there’s no hard feelin’s, I reckon I’ll be askin’ you to marry me and Charity, here.”
Eulis managed a smile. “I’d be honored.”
A short while later, the trio mounted up and rode away. Eulis was still shaking as he glanced toward the lantern-lit arbor. Faint strains of Onward Christian Soldiers drifted down the hill. Will the Bartender didn’t have much of a repertoire, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about that now. He shook his head and then sat down in the dirt with a thump.
“You’ll get your good clothes mussed,” Letty muttered.
Eulis dropped his head between his knees. “Dirt is the last thing I’ll be worryin’ about tonight.”
Letty thought about it for a minute and then sat down beside him. Her clothes still dripped. Where she was sitting would make mud. But right now, she had to agree. Getting dirty was nothing compared to what they’d endured.
Finally Eulis looked up. “I reckon I’d better get on up the hill and close out the service.”
Letty gave him a hard look and decided she could trust him that far. “Considering my dress and all, I think I’ll go on to bed.”
Eulis sighed. “That sounds good to me. I won’t be far behind.”
Letty gave him a glare. “Just don’t go gettin’ yourself drunk ’fore this is over.”
He studied her face, trying to absorb the fact that she was no longer the whore at the White Dove Saloon. He looked away. Leticia Murphy wasn’t the only one today who’d had a change of heart. He hadn’t told her yet, but he was thinking of giving up drink altogether.
“Did you hear me?” she muttered.
“Yes, ma’am. I heard you loud and clear.”
She dragged herself up then. “Well, that’s that. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He got to his feet. “Bright and early.”
She frowned. Bright and early? She didn’t know as how she could manage that. She hadn’t been up before daybreak in so long she wasn’t sure what a sunrise looked like. And then she smiled to herself as she walked away. It might be nice to see a sunrise again.
A cock crowed, rudely calling Eulis from his sleep. He cracked an eyelid to test the air and groaned at the sight. Daylight. He rolled over and wiped at his face. His head hurt. His belly rolled. He wanted a drink and he needed to pee.
And then he sat up on the side of the bed, saw the suit of clothes and the bowler hat on the nearby chair and groaned. It hadn’t been a dream after all. Yesterday he and Letty had pulled the biggest scam in the Kansas territory and were still alive to tell the tale.
He shuddered.
Therein lay his fear. He didn’t want the tale told. He liked his new identity. He didn’t want to lose that acceptance. And with that thought, came another. The only person who could ruin it all was Letty, herself!
He looked around the room, half expecting to see her standing in the corner, coated in green slime and pointing an accusing finger. Then he remembered she’d gone to bed in the room across the hall.
Alone.
Suddenly too pure to be in the presence of a man who was not her husband.
He thought of the promise she’d made him of free pokes for the rest of his life and sighed. It was the story of his life. Too little, too late. At