Presently, the blonde, suspicious-eyed Sylvia was doing the entertaining. While Vincent pounded out “Camp Town Ladies,” she sang along, prancing back and forth. Maggie had heard cats stuck in a fence carry a better tune, but no one in the audience seemed to mind. They were more interested in the way she kept flipping up the hem of her dress to flash them looks at her thighs in the fishnet stockings. She’d then stop and lean over so that the raucously yelling men seated near the stage could peek down the front of her dress. Maggie wasn’t looking forward to being next. All evening she’d forced herself not to think about the marshal, how far along on his journey home he might be, or if he was thinking about her or not, because the questions wouldn’t get her out of Granger’s clutches. She could see him on the far side of the room leaning against the bar. He seemed to be keeping a close eye on her, probably to make sure she didn’t run.
To her further displeasure he was now walking in her direction, weaving his way through the tables of drunk men still cheering Sylvia’s bad singing performance.
“So Miss Freeman,” he asked against her ear so he could be heard above the din. “You seem to be having a good time.”
Maggie wasn’t, but she didn’t respond.
“Do you see that man over there in the gray suit?”
She saw a portly but prosperous-looking man sporting muttonchops seated at a table with three other men who looked to be in the business trade.
“His name’s Benjamin McQuade and he owns this place. Think of him as your master and me as your overseer.”
Maggie balled her fists to keep from showing a reaction.
“You’re a pretty girl. If you’re nice to me, I can make life here real smooth for you. Think about that.”
Sylvia was leaving the stage.
“Excuse me. It’s my turn to sing.” Walking away, the only thing she wanted to think about was running him over with a train.
During the height of Abilene’s reign as the country’s premier cattle town, the drunken antics of the thousands of cowboys who accompanied the herds from Texas were legendary. If they weren’t drunk and disorderly or having shoot-outs in the streets, they were riding their horses into saloons, guns blazing, and scaring the hell out of folks. As the son of an actress, Ian had a flair for the dramatic, which was why he rode Smoke slowly into the Red Garter Saloon. The look on his face was as deadly as the drawn, sawed-off shotgun in his hand.
Maggie was onstage in the middle of a song. It was hard not to miss a man on a smoke gray stallion entering the center of the room. She stopped singing, Vincent stopped playing, and the room went silent enough to hear a ghost walking as everyone in the place stared with wide eyes. She wanted to jump up and down and cheer.
His voice was low, clear, and sinister. “Name’s Preacher. I’m a bounty hunter and a United States deputy marshal. If your name isn’t Granger or McQuade, I suggest you leave in the next thirty seconds.”
Men got up and fell over one another trying to reach the exit.
The absolute surprise on Granger’s face made her want to cheer again but fear quickly grabbed her upon seeing the bartender raising a gun hidden behind the bar. Before she could call out a warning, the marshal turned and fired. The loud blast from his weapon sent the barkeep running and ducking. The next shot blew apart the big fancy mirror behind the bar, shattering stacks of glasses and bottles of whiskey.
Just as quickly, he leveled the gun on Granger, whose hand was frozen in position on the gun in his holster. Apparently he’d been thinking about drawing, but being caught dead to rights, she was pretty sure he’d changed his mind.
The two armed thugs Granger employed to keep the peace in the place had stayed behind when the other customers fled, but in the face of the marshal’s opening act, quickly laid down their guns, stuck their hands high up in the air so that he could see they posed no threat, then slowly backed across the room to the front door and disappeared outside.
Granger and the marshal continued to stare each other down. The sheriff must have decided he didn’t want to be in a casket come morning, so he slowly undid the gun belt and dropped it to the floor. Beside him, McQuade was wiping a handkerchief over the sweat pouring down his face.
A concerned Bunny stepped out from the stage’s wings in response to all the commotion. “What the hell is happening?” Seeing the marshal, she stopped and asked Maggie, “Who is that?”
Maggie had tears of joy in her eyes. “Deputy Marshal Bigelow.”
“Friend of yours?”
Maggie nodded. Bunny smiled.
He then yelled, “Maggie Freeman! Where are you?”
“Here, Marshal!” She was amused that he hadn’t recognized her when he rode in.
He moved his attention to the stage. If he was surprised by her attire he didn’t show it. She wanted to jump off the stage and kiss him until she turned one hundred years old.
Ian had trouble reconciling the Maggie he’d left with Granger and the dolled-up woman on the stage wearing a low-cut red dress and fishnet hose, but he’d deal with that later. Now that he knew she was safe, he could direct his anger towards Granger and his keeper. “Why’s my prisoner on that stage?”
“It—it was her idea,” Granger said quickly. “She wanted—”
The blast from the shotgun ended the lie, and both he and McQuade screamed like sheep and tried to find cover. They ran into each other, knocking themselves down. Another blast blew up the floor, which caused more screaming.
Having gotten their undivided attention, he quoted Proverbs: “ ‘A false witness shall not be unpunished, and he that speaketh lies shall not escape.’ Now, tell me, what did Wells’s wire really say?”
Granger didn’t look like he wanted to perish. “He—said she was free to go.”
“No restrictions?”
“Just that she should stay out of the state of Kansas for a while in case the Langley charges don’t stick.”
Ian wanted to blow him to hell. “Rumor says you’re keeping a bunch of women here against their will.”
Both men, now sweating and shaking, looked at each other with fright in their eyes. McQuade, apparently deciding he wanted no further part of this, turned to Granger and asked, “Is this true?”
Up onstage, Bunny shook her head. “Cowardly bastard.” She then called out, “It’s true, Marshal! McQuade’s lying if he says he didn’t know.”
Ian looked to her. “Tell the ladies to get their things. They’re leaving.”
Bunny didn’t have to be told twice. Waving her hands joyously in the air, she hurried backstage.
Ian speared his prey with hard eyes once again and announced quietly, “This is what’s going to happen. Granger, you’re going to give the town your resignation.”
“The hell I will.”
“Then I’ll arrest you for false imprisonment, abduction, and anything else I can think of, haul you down to Fort Smith, and let you tell Judge Parker what a fine and upstanding lawman you are.”
Granger’s lip curled in reaction, but he kept his mouth shut.
“As for you Mr. McQuade, same thing.”
“You can’t talk to me this way. Why, I’m a duly elected member of the town council.”
“I hear you’re thinking about running for governor.”
“I am, and once elected, I will make sure that crooked sheriffs like Granger never get the chance to terrorize—”
An answering blast from the shotgun sent both men scrambling again. In the tense silence that followed both were trembling. “You either resign or I wire every newspaper from San Francisco to Boston and see what they think about a duly elected official of the state of Kansas keeping a bunch of women locked away like slaves. Reporters will come from miles around to hear you tell your side, but that’ll be after Judge Parker sends you to jail. Knowing him, he’ll probably see to it that you and Granger share the same cell.”
McQuade puffed up. “How dare you threaten me.”
“And how dare you not remember that the s
laves were freed in ’65.”
Silence.
By then Bunny had returned with the eight girls. She handed Maggie her saddlebag.
He asked Bunny, “Is that everyone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Maggie, you ready?”
“Sure am.”
He walked Smoke over and she climbed aboard, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Tears filled her eyes again as she pressed her cheek against his strong back in silent gratitude.
He directed his attention at Bunny and the girls. “Ladies, after you.”
The women scrambled off the stage and together walked past the stony-faced Granger and McQuade to the exit. Ian and Maggie followed on Smoke, and left behind another chapter in the still-growing tale of the legendary bounty hunter, the Preacher.
Outside, the male customers lining the walk looked on silently. Paying them no mind, but keeping his eyes on the upper windows and doorways of the buildings just in case someone was dumb enough to try and take a shot at him, Ian escorted his party of painted women away from the Red Garter Saloon.
They set up camp at the depot. It was closed for the night, but when it reopened in the morning, they all planned to buy tickets and board the first train to come through. None of the women had enough money to go far but didn’t care as long as they put distance between themselves and Granger and McQuade.
Upon hearing of the women’s limited funds while he and Maggie stood talking with Bunny, Ian offered a solution by pulling out his grandfather’s leather pouch and handing the old madam enough gold to buy tickets to take her and the girls wherever they wanted to go.
Bunny stared dumbstruck. “I can’t take this.”
Ian didn’t respond to that but said instead, “Give the ladies what they need, then settle down for the night. I’ll keep watch in case Granger or McQuade decided to make trouble.”
Bunny was still staring at the small pile of gold coins in her palm but finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I doubt that. You scared the hair off them.” She glanced down at her hand once again. “You sure about this?”
Once again, no response.
She shook her head. “Never knew being a marshal paid so well.”
He responded to the humor in her voice with a hint of humor in his eyes.
Maggie was surprised by his generosity, too. Granted he’d been paying for everything since they’d been thrown together, but she’d had no idea he held so much coin. She had to agree with Bunny; being a marshal was way more lucrative than she’d imagined.
When Bunny walked over to where the girls were gathered and told them the news, their whoops and hollers of joy filled the night. They all came over to offer their thanks, even Sylvia, who seemed to be viewing Maggie in a different light. “Is he your man?”
“No. Just an acquaintance.” She didn’t look his way.
“Wish I had an acquaintance like him. You married, Marshal?”
Bunny clamped a hand on her arm. “Go back over there and find a seat. Rest of you go with her.”
Maggie hadn’t known any of them long enough to call them friends; she didn’t even know most of their names, but she was glad that they were no longer under Granger’s boot.
Bunny’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Maggie, you and your marshal will always have a soft spot in my heart.”
“Thanks, Bunny.”
Bunny walked over to join the girls, leaving Maggie and her marshal alone.
Chapter 13
The night songs of the crickets played around them like music and all Maggie wanted to do was look at him, even if it was too dark to see her hand in front of her face. The idea that he was there, and that she was now free, made her soul rejoice. “Quite an entrance you made back there.”
For Ian it was good to have her near again, too. “Wanted to get their attention.”
“You certainly did. Thank you for the rescue.”
“You’re welcome. My apologies for putting you in harm’s way.” Although they’d only been apart for a few hours, it felt like ten times that.
“You had no way of knowing Granger wasn’t being truthful about the wire.”
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“No.” She paused for a moment as if thinking back. “Do you think he and McQuade will really do what you told them to?”
“Probably not, which is why I’ll be wiring Fort Smith as soon as I get to Denver.”
“Is that where you’re going next?”
“Yes.”
They studied each other in the darkness. “What are you going to do now that you’re free?”
“Don’t rightly know. If the sheriff wants me to stay out of Kansas, I suppose I’ll have to, but all the trains connect here.”
“True.”
“Maybe I can find work in Denver, wait six months or so and head back East to Ohio. I don’t know.” She sighed. “Add to the fact that I don’t have a penny to my name.”
“I can buy your ticket, that isn’t a problem.”
“Thank you. I’ll pay you back soon as I can, I promise.”
Ian wanted to tell her she was going to Wyoming with him but he doubted that would go over well. “Once you get to Denver I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
“Probably. I also need to change clothes so you’ll recognize me from now on.”
“I saw a woman on the stage when I rode in, but didn’t know it was you. You look different.”
She bent over and took stock of herself. “I do, don’t I?”
“Did Bunny give you the dress and shoes?”
She hesitated for a moment before responding quietly, “No, I had them in my saddlebag.”
Ian tried to see her expression but it was hidden by the darkness.
“Which means of course that I’ve sung and danced in places like the Red Garter before.” She added. “Carson Epps.”
“So when you joined his troupe this is how he made his money.” It was more statement than question.
“Yes.”
Ian found himself amazed by her once again. How many facets of her were there? Just when he thought he had her figured out, something else about her rocked him back on his heels. “My mother was an actress.”
“Really?”
“Sang, dance, recited. Audiences loved her. She’d’ve liked you.”
“Because I sing on a stage?”
“There’s that, but she’d’ve been more taken by your spirit.”
“Are you complimenting me, Marshal?”
“I think I am.”
“Then I think I say thank you.”
Ian wanted to sneak her off into the darkness and reacquaint her to the feel of being in his arms, but that would only further complicate matters, and the situation was complicated enough. Standing near her and thinking back on their night together while the wind whispered around them and the moon above played in and out of the clouds, was going to lead to trouble if he didn’t back away, so he did. “You go ahead and change clothes. I’ll set up here and keep watch.”
She glanced up as if surprised by his abrupt end of their conversation, but instead of speaking to it, she said simply, “Sure.” And walked off.
Ian sighed and removed Smoke’s saddle. He patted the stallion affectionately. “Doesn’t look like we’ll ever make it home, does it, boy? You as tired of getting on and off trains as I am? Promise I’ll never take you on a trip like this ever again. Making myself the same promise. In the meantime, what are we going to do about Maggie?”
Smoke had no answer and neither did his rider, so Ian untied his bedroll and prepared to settle in for his watch. Lying back against the saddle, he made himself comfortable and lit a cheroot. As the smoke curled up and drifted off into the night, all he could think about was Maggie.
Dressed in her shirt, trousers, and battered boots once again, Maggie folded the red dress and carefully wedged it back into her pack along with the stockings and shoes. Using the saddlebag as a pillow and her father’s coat as a blanket, s
he made herself as comfortable as she could on the depot’s plank floor and thanked the gods of both her parents for the marshal. Without his intervention there was no way of knowing how long Granger might have held her prisoner. Now she was free from everything, and still giddy because of it, but the marshal remained on her mind. He’d broken off their conversation back there rather sharply and she wasn’t sure why. It might have helped had she been able to see his face, but even in full light she had a tough time discerning his thoughts, and in the darkness it was impossible. While they’d stood talking his presence brought back the memories of the night they’d spent together. Her senses bloomed recalling the thrill of his kisses and the heat in his touch. She wondered if he’d been remembering, too, and if that might have been the reason for the quick retreat. Did he not want to be reminded, or were the memories as potent as her own? The woman in her wanted it to be the latter. That woman also wanted to be loved by him again, even though keeping her distance made more sense because he’d soon be gone from her life.
The rest of the women from the Red Garter were spread out nearby. A few, like Bunny, were already asleep. Others seemed to be lying silently and minding their own thoughts. It was a warm May night, so there was no danger of frost, and if it rained, the long flat roof above their heads would keep them dry. She raised up to see if she could see him out in the grass. The moon slipped free of the clouds just long enough to illuminate him before it disappeared and plunged him back into the darkness. All that remained was the faint glow of his cigar. The woman inside hoped he was thinking of her.
The depot agent arrived for work early the next morning and the sight of the women made him stop and stare.
Ian intercepted him and after introducing himself explained, “The ladies are under my escort.”
“You’re the marshal everyone’s talking about this morning. The good people in Abilene have been trying to get that place closed down for years. Been trying to get rid of Granger, too, but he was handpicked by McQuade and there was nothing any of us could do.”