"Yes, sir." The two cowboys pushed back their chairs and were scrambling toward the door, as if the spirits were hot on their heels.
"What about our séance?" the woman asked, indignant. "I paid."
"Come back tomorrow," Rose advised, glad to be rid of that bunch. "You'll get your séance then."
"Unless the spirits catch the next stage out of town," Travis mumbled, but the woman had already walked out the door, along with Paul, Rose's helper.
Rose was alone with the Burnett brothers. She glanced at Travis. "The spirits don't need a stage; they're always here, Mr. Burnett."
"And I'm a saint," he replied. He shook his head in disbelief and gazed around the room. "Where do you hide the bells?"
"What are you talking about?" Rose asked in innocence.
The corner of his mouth rose in a half grin. "You really don't want to make this easy, do you?"
She shrugged. "Why should I? You haven't even told me why you're here," she stated. But she knew and was determined not to show fear. Bravado had carried her many a day and this one was no exception.
"Not my place," Travis replied, clearly feeding her curiosity.
"Where is your manservant, Miss Severin?" the marshal asked.
"Isaiah has gone to visit his family."
Travis strolled around the table looking, searching. "I heard that bell somewhere near this table. It sounded muffled."
"You won't find a bell, Mr. Burnett, as the spirits ring a bell to announce their arrival and departure, not I."
"But I thought they were always here," Travis said mockingly.
"They are." She smiled. "But they only speak to me when they ring the bell."
Travis glanced at her and shook his head. "One thing for certain, you're definitely not a quitter. I'd have run you out of town that first night if I'd known how stubborn you could be."
"For what?"
Travis shrugged. "Who says I need a reason?"
The marshal lifted the scarlet tablecloth off of the table and looked beneath.
"What are you looking for, marshal? I'd be glad to help you," she asked innocently.
He put the tablecloth back in place and glanced up at her, missing the bell that was tucked under the table. "My brother's charging you with fraud. Claims you tried to con our mother. My mother has been hurt enough by the disappearance of my brother, Tanner. I don't need for you to make it worse."
She whirled around and faced Travis. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his gaze amused, but his eyes were cold, as if there were no joy or spark in them.
Rose glanced at Travis, her fists clenched at her sides. "Why? I haven't seen . . . your mother."
The memory of her brief visit the other morning returned with gale force.
"You're lying."
"No. She came to see me. She wanted to talk. We didn't speak with your brother. I didn't even charge her. It was a social call, nothing more."
"I told you to stay away from my mother." His voice was quiet and even. No emotion at all.
"She came to me. What was I supposed to do, slam the door in her face?"
"Yes."
"I'm arresting you for fraud, Miss Severin," the marshal announced.
"But why? I only give my customers what they want! They receive a chance to heal their wounds, a chance to speak with their loved ones once again. Your mother came to see me!"
"The same could be said for some of the madams in this town, but I arrest them too," the marshal answered.
"I'm a medium, not a whore! I speak with the dead. How could that hurt someone?"
"And I run a boarding house for innocents," the marshal replied. "You're one of the slickest con artists I've come across. And female to boot!"
"Prove that I cannot speak to the dead!"
Travis leaned forward and shoved the chair she'd been sitting in under the table. She cringed at the tinkling sound of the bell rolling and clanging beneath the table.
"Oh, merde!"
Travis bent down and lifted the tablecloth. He reached under the skirt and came up smiling, holding the bell by his fingers, swinging it back and forth. "Proof! The spirits left their bell behind."
Oh! A mist of pure fury glazed her eyes. "No, I've been looking for that dinner bell. I wondered where it went."
He shook his head. "Arrest her, Tucker."
The marshal took hold of her arm and pulled her toward the door. Rose felt a moment of panic and dug in her heals. She'd never been to jail before. "Why jail? You said you would have me run out of town."
Travis stepped in front of her. He lifted her chin with his finger and tilted her head back. "That's where cheats belong. And you, Miss Severin, are the queen of cheats, conning little old ladies with your French accent and your sweet lies. I hope you enjoy your stay in Fort Worth's jail."
Like an errant child, she swung her foot out at him and smacked him hard in the shin.
"Ouch!"
"Espéce de trou du cal!" she said.
He smiled. "And what sweet word did you just call me?"
She tilted her nose up at him, "I called you an asshole."
The marshal laughed and tugged on her arm. "Come along, Miss Severin. My boarding house awaits you."
She glanced back over her shoulder one last time and shot a look at Travis Burnett that she hoped would singe the edges of his cowboy hat.
***
Jail! Rose gazed at the steel bars that enclosed her, trying to stem the rising sense of panic the small space evoked. She couldn't get out. They wouldn't let her go. She was stuck inside a cell that held, including herself, four women, two cots, one pail of water, and a chamber pot. The El Paso Hotel it was not.
Travis Burnett was a pig-sucking, low-life bastard of the worst sort. And Rose couldn't wait to get out of this hellhole and tell him in no uncertain terms what she thought of him and his gun-toting, tin-star brother.
Of all the cowardly things! She couldn't believe he had put her in jail because his mother had visited her! Visited!
She had collected nothing that morning from Mrs. Burnett but a free trip to jail.
Unable to sit any longer, Rose stood and began to pace the small area. How long before she could find Mr. Burnett and give in to the urge to scratch his eyes out? How long before she could get out and shake the dust of this awful city from her feet? She'd done nothing to his mother. Absolutely nothing.
She wrung her hands in front of her. Isaiah would not return until Friday. She had two days to pace this small cell. Three steps forward, turn, and three steps back. Hour after hour to contemplate, wonder, and worry.
"Honey, sit down. You're goin' to wear a hole in your shoes with all that walking. You ain't goin' nowhere," a blonde woman who shared the cell advised.
"I can't," she said, throwing her hands up in the air. "I didn't do anything to her, and that bastard put me in here."
"Which one, honey?"
A lady reclining on the cot spoke up. "If he's male, does it really matter which one?"
"Oh, Henrietta, not all men are bad. Some can be really nice," the blonde said.
"Yeah, as long as you're on your back, they're happy."
"Don't mind her, miss. Tell us who put you in here."
"Travis Burnett."
"Ooh, he's one cowboy I'd let wear spurs in my bed. I'd even be willing to play giddy-up.'' The women laughed. "It's kind of dangerous to double-cross him—after all, he's got the law on his side."
"Yeah, I found out."
"What did you do to him?"
"Nothing!" Rose stopped her pacing, but her foot tapped nervously against the floor. "He warned me to stay away from his mother, but she came to me. She was the one who came to my business. She was the one who insisted on talking to me. And then he blamed me."
"Men in this part of the country are mighty protective of their womenfolk." The blonde pushed back a stray lock of hair and leaned against the cell wall.
Rose threw up her arms and let them fall to her side. "But I di
d nothing!"
"It doesn't matter to a man like that. He's going to protect what's his." The woman stared off into the distance, and a deep, soulful sigh escaped her lips. "I'd love to have a man like him who wanted to protect me, and keep me tucked away real safe-like."
The woman on the cot rolled her eyes. "Betty, he wouldn't look twice at a woman like you. Not for a wife. Hell, that's the reason he ain't married now."
"He has looked twice at a woman like me. He used to visit Belinda occasionally, before his brother became the marshal."
"That's different. He was using her to take care of his needs. Just like all men use us."
Rose stared at the two women in annoyance. "I don't care who he visited. I only know he has ruined my business!" She swallowed, trying to hold back the hot tears that threatened to fall. "Things were going so well. We could have earned enough money to make it to New York. Now I'm stuck in this cage."
Henrietta stood and handed Rose a handkerchief and patted her on the arm. "Don't worry, honey, things will be okay.
"Hey, lady, I'll marry you. I'll wear spurs," an anonymous man yelled from two cells down. The Fort Worth jail had only four cells, and men occupied three of the four.
"Only if I can use my lead chucker on ya," Henrietta yelled back. "Why do the men get a separate cell, while we're all crammed into one? I don't think it's fair."
"Who said women were ever treated fairly?" a woman called Buckskin Sue replied, sitting on the floor leaning against the cool steel bars. With only two cots, the four women in the cell had to take turns lying down.
"I'll recite poetry if I don't have to pay next time," the man yelled back.
The women groaned.
"Nothing in life is free, honey. You'll pay just like all the others," Betty informed the man.
The door to the cell area opened. "Quiet down in there."
Rose turned, her tears momentarily forgotten, and faced the deputy. "Why should we keep it quiet?" Rose said, raising her voice. "I didn't ask to be put in here. The charges are hearsay."
The door slammed shut.
"Honey, is this your first time?" Henrietta asked.
She glanced up at the whore. "Yes."
"What are you in for, Miss . . .?"
"The name's Desirée Severin." She glanced through the bars. "Fraud."
"You're that lady who runs the séance parlor," Henrietta exclaimed.
"Yes. The Last Word."
Betty smiled. "What we need is something that would pass the time away. Did you bring a deck of cards, Henrietta?"
"Nope. I was working upstairs when the law decided to haul us in."
"They interrupted a séance I was holding for several customers when they visited The Last Word." Rose sat back for a moment and gazed at the group of women. "I can't stand just sitting here in this cramped space."
"Yeah, it's a shame there's nothing to do," Henrietta drawled. She gazed quizzically at Rose. "Not unless you lead us in one of those—what did you call it? Sea ..."
"You mean séance?" Rose asked.
"Yeah."
"Let's do it!" Buckskin Sue said, jumping up from the floor. "Tucker Burnett won't like it one bit."
"The marshal wouldn't be happy at all to hear I'm speaking to the dead here in his jail," Rose replied.
"That's the more reason to do it," Betty agreed.
"All right," Rose said, focusing her anger and her fears momentarily pushed aside. "Form a circle. Hold onto your neighbor's hand and close your eyes."
"What are you women doing?" the man two cells down cried.
"Ignore that man," Betty said flippantly.
"Okay, let's find out who died in this jail," Buckskin Sue said as she grabbed hold of Henrietta's hand, closing the circle.
Henrietta shivered. "That's scary."
Rose started to sway and moan. It was a performance of a lifetime as she cried, "Spirits, heed our call. Visit with us once again so that we can glean from your wisdom."
"Marshal!" the man yelled, banging his tin cup against the steel bars. "Stop them. Stop them or let me out. They're performing some kind of magic in here. Let me out!"
Tucker Burnett burst through the door and strode to the cell. "What the devil is going on in here?"
Rose smiled for the first time since she'd been arrested. "Marshal Burnett, would you care to join us? I'm trying to contact the spirits in your jail."
"Lady, you aren't doing any such thing. Not in my jail."
"Why? You don't believe I can speak with the dead, remember?"
Tucker frowned. "Lady, your kind of trouble I don't need. You've got my jail in an uproar."
"Then let me out."
"Can't do that, Miss Severin. Now don't be holding any more rituals in my jail."
Without waiting for a reply, he headed toward the door.
"Marshal?" Rose called.
He turned back, a frown on his face. "What now?"
"Come here." Rose walked up to the barred door and stretched her hand through the bars. "Give me your hand."
"What for?"
"Just do as I ask."
Reluctantly, he gave her his hand. She pulled his palm up to where she could see through the bars. With one finger she traced the lines on his palm. She dropped his hand, smiled, and took a step back.
"What?" the marshal asked, annoyed.
"You have a troubled past, Marshal," she said, taking another step back, her voice shaking. "Your day of reckoning is coming. Soon."
He shook his head. "You're trying to scare me, and it's not going to work."
She shrugged. "I trust you have a will?"
He looked at her oddly. "I lived through my youth. I'm not too worried now."
"Maybe you should be."
"Miss Severin, this won't work. I've got to leave."
Abruptly, he turned and hurried out of the cell area. The women cackled as they watched him disappear through the door.
Laughing, Rose sank down on the bed and pulled her knees up, resting her chin. She let herself enjoy the last few moments just a little longer and then she sighed. If only she had listened to Isaiah and waited for his return, she wouldn't be in this cell. But she'd gotten bored, and the need to make as much money as possible before they moved on had urged her to continue working.
An hour passed before she heard the outer door open once again and the deputy stepped through. "Miss Severin, your fine's been paid."
Rose jumped up and hurried to the cell door. "By who?"
"Get your things. Let's go," he said as he fitted the key into the cell lock. When the bars swung open, she hurried through the open portal. The claustrophobia she'd held at bay was suddenly released and she shuddered. Freedom! she thought and took a deep breath.
She turned and waved to her new acquaintances. "Good-bye, ladies."
"Good luck, Miss Severin."
Opening the outer door to the marshal's office, she half expected to see Isaiah waiting for her, but instead she stumbled to a halt.
Stunned, she watched Mrs. Burnett hurry toward her. "Dear! I came as soon as I heard. I never believed they would really arrest you. I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"
Chapter Three
"Mrs. Burnett, what are you doing here?" Rose asked, realization dawning on her as she stared at the gray-haired lady. "Oh, God! You paid the twenty- dollar fine."
The deputy scratched his head. "The marshal doesn't know she paid your fine. If I were you, I'd catch the next stage out of town. It's leaving at noon today. You've got little more than an hour."
"Gladly!" She took a deep breath to calm her ragged nerves. "Mrs. Burnett, thank you, but I've got to go.
Rose started walking toward the door, the swish of her skirts loud in the small room.
"Desirée—wait, dear," Mrs. Burnett hurried after her.
She halted at the door, eager to make a fast exit. "Look, I appreciate you paying my fine, but I can't be seen with you. Your son put me in jail just for talking to you!"
"Don't worry
about Travis or Tucker, dear."
"Don't worry about the Burnett brothers!" Right then, Rose would have done just about anything to keep from being locked back in that small box they called a jail. "You heard the deputy. I should get out of town, all because of your sons!"
Rose marched out the door, heels clicking on the wooden sidewalk as she headed toward The Last Word. No, she couldn't really talk to the dead. But all she'd done was help some little old ladies get over their loved ones' deaths, and now she was being forced to leave town, without Isaiah.
If only she had time to find Travis Burnett, she'd give him a talking to that would cause his ears to blister. First she'd yell at him in English, then she'd curse him in French. But she wasn't about to risk being sent back to jail just to appease her wounded pride.
"Miss Severin, please, slow down!"
Rose turned, her feet slowing as she noticed Mrs. Burnett hurrying to catch her. "Mrs. Burnett, I do appreciate your help in getting me out of jail, but I must pack my bags and be on the next stage. Right now I don't feel like talking pleasantly to anyone. In fact, I feel the urge to throw a screaming fit, but I just don't have the time."
Though her gait was slower, Mrs. Burnett was quite capable of keeping up with Rose as she walked along at a rapid pace. "You don't have to leave town, Miss Severin."
"What? Are you kidding me? You think I enjoyed spending a night in that dank jail?" Rose replied, irritated.
"No," the woman snapped back. "You are welcome to move your business and yourself out to my ranch. You'll be safe with me."
Rose stopped walking and stared at the woman in disbelief. Finally she started to laugh. "What kind of game are you playing, Mrs. Burnett?" She took a deep breath. "You think I'd move out to your ranch with your son? I'm not a miracle worker!"
"Travis doesn't need a miracle. He's a good man, he's just protective of those he cares about."
"Protective! I'd say he's more like a mountain lion—cunning, with a ferocious roar and a determined mindset."
Her voice resonated through the street, and people stopped and stared. Rose shook her head and started to walk again.
"This is nonsense. You're a sweet lady, but your son doesn't want me anywhere near you. Why would he allow me to live with you?"
"Miss Severin, I know you're upset. I know my sons have treated you horribly, but really, they're both very nice men. Travis is stubborn to a fault, just like his father, but I know once he gets to know you, he'll see what I see."
Rose didn't take the time to even glance at the woman but hurried along the sidewalk, ignoring the obvious stares. "Just what do you see, besides a semi-hysterical woman who has just lost her business and must travel to another city?"