Echoes of a Dead Man Read online

  Feeling suddenly over-tired and irritable, she started to pace. ‘Damn you, Matt Lomew,’ she said aloud. ‘Why did you save me just to let me die a little every day?’

  As she passed the window something caught her attention. An unexpected sound. The creak of a weathered board bending under an unexpected weight? Trying to act as though nothing was amiss, she continued to pace, drawing to a natural stop beside the window where she pressed herself tight against the wall to listen.

  ‘Jessica-Rose?’

  She swallowed a burst of fear that set her heart racing and the blood to pounding loudly in her ears as she recognized the voice. But there was an element of excitement too, of curiosity, and maybe hope. How did he know her name? Had he really known her mother? Maybe he had even known her father. The questions racing around her head far outweighed the panic that shifted the weight to her toes and left her tight as a wound spring ready to explode into action at the slightest inclination.

  ‘I know you’re in there. I saw you watching the street.’ Jethro Davies poked his head inside, his gaze circling the room before finding her frozen against the wall. He smiled. ‘You might not believe this, but you don’t need to be afraid of me: I haven’t come to hurt you.’

  Before she could run past, he kicked his legs over the sill, but instead of coming fully into the room, he perched on the ledge with his hands planted comfortably on his knees. For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything as he looked her over from the top of her head to the tip of her toes before settling on her face. There was something almost affectionate in the small smile that curved his lips. Even his odd gaze seemed to soften as he looked at her.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, trying to control the tremor in her voice. ‘Matt will be back any time now.’

  He chuckled. ‘He left for the game ten minutes ago and he won’t be back for hours. But there’s no need for you to worry, I only stopped by for a moment.’

  She hesitated over the obvious question, afraid to break the thrill of curiosity coursing through her veins, but she had to ask. ‘Why? Why did you come?’

  ‘I wanted to be sure of something.’

  Again she hesitated. ‘What?’

  ‘That you’re really Marianne’s daughter.’

  Just the mention of her mother’s name brought a lump to her throat, but the opportunity to talk to someone who had known her stopped the sadness from overwhelming her. ‘My mother’s name was Marianne,’ she said, barely able to contain her curiosity. ‘Did you know her?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And my father?’

  This time it was his turn to hesitate. ‘I knew them both. Your mother was a fine and good woman.’

  ‘And my father?’

  ‘He was a good man. Do you remember him at all?’

  She nodded, recalling his soft laughter and the gentleness of his big hands. ‘A little. Playing games mostly. I was very small when he died. It’s hard to remember the details.’

  ‘He loved playing games with you. You made him laugh a lot. You and your mother. He was very happy back then before. …’

  She held her breath, waiting, eager for whatever details he might provide. When he didn’t continue, she prompted, ‘Before what?’

  ‘Before your mother died.’ The light disappeared from his eyes, his expression turning as grey and cold as rock. He stood abruptly, turning on a dime and gripping her shoulders in a painful hold. ‘Listen to me. If you don’t want the same life as your parents, you need to talk to Matt, convince him that he can’t win this fight.’

  His certainty irked her. ‘Why? Because you gave him a beating today? In a fair fight, he’s as fast as any man with a gun. Or maybe you’re the one who’s afraid.’

  He shook her roughly, letting go suddenly as though she were a hot coal. ‘Listen to me, Jessica-Rose. Your mother had the same unflinching belief in your pa that you have in Matt, but when trouble came, it didn’t come head on. It snuck up on them from behind and there was nothing your pa could do to stop it. Your ma died because your pa thought he could reason with trouble, or win against it in a fair fight. Well it wasn’t a fair fight then and it won’t be now. Stone’ll come from behind, in the dead of night, and next time Matt won’t be as lucky as he was in Silver Springs.’

  She knew he was telling the truth about Matt’s luck. Even Lou, who never commented on Matt’s way of life, had admitted that no man should have lived after being riddled with four bullets. And after their showdown this afternoon, there was no doubt Stone had been the man behind them. But why should Jethro care?

  ‘If you’re not afraid of going up against Matt, why are you bothering to warn me? Surely your loyalty lies with your nephew.’

  His look of indecision only added to her determination to find out what game he was playing.

  ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

  When he didn’t answer, she stamped to the door, intending to throw it wide and order him out but he followed quickly, shaking the panels as he slammed his palm against them before she could fully open it.

  ‘Because earlier today, you told me you loved him,’ he said, raising his voice above its even pitch for the first time, ‘and I saw the same unwavering certainty in your eyes as I did in your mother’s. Believe me when I tell you, I don’t want to kill him, but nothing I can say is going to stop Stone from trying. And whatever else happens, I owe it to your mother to make sure you don’t get caught up in the middle of it.’

  His mixture of concern and veiled threats was confusing to say the least and with everything else falling to pieces around her, she was in no mood for riddles. ‘Stop talking about my mother. I’m starting to wonder whether you even knew her or my father. If you did, you’d know she died in a tragic accident and my father … he died of a broken heart. As for Matt and me, we faced the Devil together once before, we can do it again. Maybe you’re the one who should think about leaving.’

  ‘You’re warning me to get out of town?’ He chuckled and stepped away, still laughing as he headed for the window. ‘You really are your mother’s daughter, Jessica-Rose,’ he said, swinging his legs over the sill and out onto the narrow porch that ran the length of the hotel. ‘But you’re a day-dreamer like your father. Just for the record, nobody ever died of a broken heart. You might want to think about that.’

  And with that he was gone.

  CHAPTER 6

  Four players had already taken their seats when Matt entered the private gaming room of the Big Nugget Saloon. He recognized Hank McCreedy, a cattleman known for more than 200 miles as Smiling Hank. True to his reputation, he eyed Matt with something akin to amusement, then smiled and waved him to a seat opposite. Beside the amply proportioned cattleman sat Carl Langton, owner of the local bank and a favourite with the ladies despite his advancing years. The other two men Matt didn’t recognize but he guessed they were locals by the easy way they were chatting between themselves.

  ‘Looks like we might have two empty seats tonight, gentleman,’ Hank McCreedy said after a few minutes. Leaning back in his chair, he checked his gold pocket watch. ‘I make it almost nine.’

  Langton looked at his own timepiece, pressed it to his ear and tapped the glass before checking it again. ‘I would agree, Hank. Will we wait?’

  McCreedy shifted his gaze and nodded to a suited, balding man leaning idly by the door. ‘Don’t like tardiness in my business dealings. Don’t see why I should allow it at my table.’

  The doorman straightened officiously, but before he could turn the brass key, the door swung open.

  ‘Evening, gents.’ Jethro Davies handed a wedge of money to the man at the door and nodded to each of the players before letting his gaze meet and hold Matt’s.

  Behind him, Stone pushed to get in. ‘Are we in time?’

  McCreedy glanced slyly in Matt’s direction then looked at his watch as if it was the first time. ‘Take a seat. We were just about to get started.’

  Occupying the chair to McCreedy’s left, Jethro leaned
aside as the doorman placed a pile of chips in front of him. ‘Matt, it’s good to see you. I hear you’re good with a deck of cards.’

  Matt took a sip of whiskey.

  Stone sat between his uncle and Matt, his gaze wavering between his clenched hands and Matt’s face. ‘How’s your girl? Keeping out of trouble?’

  Matt’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want to think about Jessie, or Stone, or Jethro. He needed to concentrate on his game, but just the mention of her tightened the knot of anxiety already sitting heavy in his belly.

  Stone laughed and held out his hand. ‘No hard feelings about what happened earlier, eh?’ He touched the bandage taped to his ear. ‘I see a pretty girl and … I guess I’m just used to getting what I want. Maybe I’ll be luckier at cards.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ Langton said. ‘Mr Lomew’s won this game two years in a row. He’s won big in Fletcher County, Carlton and Brinslow this year already.’

  Stone nodded appreciatively. ‘No wonder he’s popular with the ladies.’

  McCreedy tapped his fingers on the table, demanding attention. ‘Well, you boys seem to know each other. Let me introduce you to everyone else.’ He made the introductions then continued, ‘And these two gentlemen are Mr Brown, of Brown’s General Store and Haberdashery, and Mr Gold who owns the Beacon Hotel.’

  The two men nodded and, after reaching under his seat, Brown handed a brown paper wrapped package across to Matt. ‘I think this is yours. You dropped it outside my store earlier.’

  The candy he had bought for Jessie. ‘Thanks.’

  McCreedy opened a new deck of cards, shuffled then handed it to Jethro for the cut. Everyone threw in the ante and the game got under way. Matt picked up a pair of queens off the deal. For the first few hands, he won a little, lost a little. One hour became three, each man suffering mixed fortunes, nobody gaining the upper hand. The man on the door brought food and whiskey, while McCreedy threw in anecdotes about his travels buying cattle. Nobody else said much.

  Matt’s pile of chips grew as he watched and listened. Brown played a careful game, winning and losing in equal amounts, but staying about even. Gold had similar luck, although on a couple of occasions he seemed to fold too quickly when McCreedy raised. Langton seemed to enjoy watching the others. Judging by the diminished size of his pile of chips, his success with cards was limited to the luck of the draw.

  And then there was Stone. He played like a child. His face lit up every time he had a hand and sank when he didn’t. He bet on everything, and now, as they started the next round, he licked his lips as he looked hungrily at Matt’s impressive winnings.

  ‘You’re sure living up to your reputation.’ Stone glanced at the other players, seeking agreement and getting it. ‘Seems like you have a lot of our money sitting on your side of the table.’

  Matt hated chit-chat during a game at the best of times, and today wasn’t one of those. He fought hard to keep his tone even. ‘I don’t chop wood for a living.’

  Langton and McCreedy chuckled, both keeping their attention on their chips. Gold and Brown showed no signs of even hearing the conversation, although Matt doubted they missed anything.

  Jethro whistled through his teeth. ‘Good answer.’

  ‘Are you too good for a hard day’s work?’ Stone asked. ‘Or does it take more than a couple of dollars a day to keep that girl of yours happy? Ever thought she might like a man who gets his hands dirty?’

  Matt’s temper sizzled the way Stone probably intended, but he kept it under control. It was common enough for a man to try and distract an opponent, throw him off his game, but only a fool played into it. Besides, there was more than one way to shut Stone Davies up.

  ‘Whose deal is it?’ Matt asked.

  ‘You gents ever met her?’ Stone asked, downing another whiskey as he looked around the table at faces pinched with tension. ‘You wouldn’t forget her if you had. She looks like honey over warm apple pie. Smells good too, like flowers.’

  ‘Sounds like a real lady. Lomew’s obviously a lucky man,’ Brown commented drily. ‘Now are we here to talk or play cards?’

  Stone ignored the hint. ‘I bet underneath all that satin and lace she feels good too.’

  Cards spilled across the table as Matt dropped the deck, coming stiffly to his feet, his right hand resting on his gun belt. ‘Davies, I’ve listened to your talk for just about as long as I want to. If you’ve got something special you want to say to me or about me, that’s fine. One thing you don’t talk about is …’ He stumbled over the name on the tip of his tongue, loath to give a face to Stone’s filthy insinuations. ‘You don’t talk about a lady that way.’

  Stone grinned, the effects of a full bottle of whiskey showing in his rosy cheeks. ‘A lady? Well, exc-use me, I didn’t know that. What’s a body supposed to think when a girl stands outside a saloon like that?’

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth!’

  Stone held up his hands and looked around innocently at blank faces, finally meeting McCreedy’s amused expression. ‘I’m just saying—’

  ‘Maybe you need to cool down, son,’ McCreedy said, addressing his remark to Matt. ‘We all heard what happened today and it stands to reason you’d be sore. No man likes to lose a fight, especially not in front of his girl. I never saw another man’s business as being any of mine, never wanted to, but you kill a man at my table … that would surely spoil my game and then it would be my business.’

  Langton nodded his agreement. Brown and Gold bowed their heads lower. Stone seemed suddenly interested in his filthy fingernails. Beside McCreedy, Jethro relaxed in his chair, his face a mask of indifference except for a challenging twinkle in his eyes.

  Matt cursed his own stupidity. He should have guessed they would be playing him from the beginning. Glancing at Stone, he noticed he didn’t look half as drunk now. Idiot! How the hell had he underestimated them that badly? Far from being the nonsensical ramblings of a drunk, Stone’s constant stream of insinuations had undoubtedly been leading to this. Whatever Matt decided to do next, he would lose face, maybe even his liberty if he killed Stone the way he wanted to.

  Going with his instincts, he sat down and swallowed some whiskey to ease his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Mr McCreedy. I sure wouldn’t want to spoil your game. Maybe I can make it up to you by giving you a chance to win back some of your money.’

  Gold and Brown exchanged glances. Stone eyed his uncle sideways. But Jethro’s gaze didn’t falter as he nodded very slightly, almost approvingly.

  ‘Apology accepted. It’s your deal, Mr Lomew,’ McCreedy reminded him.

  Matt’s enthusiasm for poker escaped him, but as he picked up the deck, shuffled and split it, another game occurred to him. Thumbing the first card, he deliberately hesitated. All attention fixed on him.

  ‘Something wrong?’ Jethro asked.

  ‘What is it?’ McCreedy asked.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just …’ Matt considered his next words carefully, placing his gaze firmly with McCreedy. ‘Well, the deck feels a little light.’

  Clearing a space, Matt counted out the cards. ‘Forty-nine, fifty …’ He threw down the last card. ‘Fifty-one.’

  ‘How the hell could you have known that?’ Stone asked, looking around the table as if for an answer. ‘Nobody could … unless. …’

  ‘Careful, son,’ McCreedy warned. ‘This is supposed to be a friendly game.’

  ‘Friendly my ass. He’s got most of our money sitting in front of him and suddenly the deck comes up short. I say—’

  Jethro backhanded him across the chest, rocking him onto the back legs of his chair. ‘Easy. Why would he say anything at all if he’d palmed a card?’ He shook his head, apparently disgusted by his nephew’s lack of reasoning. ‘Who else in this room would have even noticed the deck was light?’

  Mumbled agreements and synchronized head shaking confirmed it.

  ‘Maybe it just fell out,’ Matt said, pushing his chair back, ‘when I dropped the deck.’

&nb
sp; The other players moved back from the table, each man looking around the floor. Jethro leaned down towards his nephew’s feet. It was a few seconds before he tossed the ace of hearts onto the table.

  ‘Where’d you find it?’ McCreedy asked.

  Jethro narrowed his eyes at his nephew.

  ‘Why the hell are you looking at me?’ Stone lurched to his feet, his hand fanning towards his gun as his chair crashed over backwards. ‘Are you trying to say I was cheating?’

  ‘Easy, boys.’ Without standing, McCreedy leaned across and rested his hand on Stone’s gun arm. ‘Like Mr Lomew said, it could have fallen out when he dropped the deck. No point getting excited about it.’

  ‘I didn’t notice, if it did,’ Brown said, quietly.

  ‘Me neither.’ Langton eyed Stone’s hand and continued to ease his chair away from the table. ‘But it could have even fallen out of the shuffle.’

  Matt raised an eyebrow.

  ‘No offence, Mr Lomew,’ Langton added.

  ‘Or someone tossed it there when the deck turned up light,’ Gold mumbled, looking directly at Stone.

  ‘I ain’t a cheat. Do you think I can’t afford to lose a few dollars? Tell ’em, Jethro.’ He glared at his uncle then looked for confirmation from every man in turn before settling his wrath on Matt. ‘Maybe he put it there. You all saw the way he was looking for trouble with me.’

  Gold looked up from his hands laid flat on the table. ‘Seems to me you’re the one who’s been doing all the riding tonight.’

  ‘Me? All I done was talk about a pretty girl. When the hell was that ever a crime?’ The fight dwindled from his voice to finish in a drunken whine.

  Matt’s hand rested on his thigh, close enough to draw his gun if he needed to. It itched to pummel Stone’s face to a pulp, but until uncle or nephew made their move, he couldn’t afford out-and-out trouble. For now, sleight-of-hand and Stone’s humiliation at being branded a cheat would have to soothe his rancour.