tip his hat.
When she sang the last notes of the song, there was a collective hush from everyone in the room before the men erupted in a chorus of whistles and cheers. To kill the painful memories resurrected by the song, the cowboys immediately began buying more drinks, which suited Will the Bartender just fine. He shouted to the drunk at the end of the bar.
“Hey Eulis, go to the storeroom and bring me another crate of whiskey. I’m gettin’ low.”
Eulis Potter pushed himself off from the bar and aimed his feet in the general direction of the back room.
Once he’d been a soldier with General LaMoyne’s army. The fort was long gone, burned to the ground back in forty-two by a Comanche raiding party. After that he’d quit the service and wandered the territories until he’d come to Lizard Flats. He’d gotten drunk in the White Dove that night and had yet to sober up long enough to leave. He now held two jobs—doing janitor work for Will at the White Dove, and digging graves on the hill outside of town. He didn’t particularly care for either one, but they kept him in drinks and a roof over his head.
Letty watched Eulis as he stumbled toward the back room. His clothes were little more than rags that smelled to high heaven and she’d never really seen his face. It was hidden behind a mop of dark, unshorn hair and a thick, greasy beard. But she was a ‘live and let live’ sort of woman and rarely wasted energy on something that didn’t concern her. It was after midnight, which meant she was done. Thankful that the men were otherwise occupied, she slipped off the end of the bar and nodded to Will. It was her signal that she was going to her room.
He hesitated, as if thinking about calling her back, then saw the look on her face and waved her on.
She started up the stairs, her mind on the warm bath waiting for her in her room then heard footsteps behind her. She turned with a ready rejection on her lips only to realize it was the card shark who’d been occupying the back table.
“I’m done for the night,” she said.
The gambler doffed his hat.
“Miss Murphy, my name is James Dupree. May I buy you a drink?”
His voice was cultured. His fingernails were clean. Despite her weariness, it was enough of an oddity to pique Letty’s interest. She hesitated, and then shrugged.
“I guess.” She started back downstairs when he shook his head and cupped her elbow, instead.
“Is there somewhere we could go that is a little more private?”
Letty snorted. It was unladylike, but then his last question had been ungentlemanly, and she wasn’t in the mood to take another man to bed.
“Speak your mind, mister. I’m too tired for games. You can drink by yourself. If you want to take me to bed, it’ll cost you a dollar.”
The gambler heard disappointment in her voice and it shamed him. He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it, then fixed her with a dark, secretive gaze.
“I don’t want to drink by myself. Besides, I think you sell yourself too cheaply, Letty. You’re worth far more than a dollar.”
Letty’s mouth dropped.
“Now how about that drink?” he asked.
She shrugged.
Dupree hurried back down the stairs, talked Will the Bartender out of a fairly decent bottle of wine he’d been saving for himself, and grabbed the cleanest two glasses he could find before rejoining Letty.
“After you, Miss Murphy.”
She eyed him curiously then led the way to her room.
James didn’t know what he’d expected, but it was not clean sheets and lace curtains.
“I don’t bring my customers here,” Letty said, and then wondered why she’d said that.
Ah, so that explains it. “Then I thank you for the courtesy of considering me a friend.”
Letty frowned. “I don’t know what I consider you, mister, but I wouldn’t call you a friend. I don’t have any friends.”
“My friends call me Gentleman Jim, but I would like it if you would call me Jim.” He set the wine and glasses on a nearby table, opened the wine and then looked at Letty. “May I pour?”
“It’s why you came. Suit yourself,” she said, and plopped down into a chair, thankful to be off her feet and not on her back at the same time.
He muffled a sigh as he poured the wine. She was harder than he would have liked. From her viewpoint though, he doubted his