One Texas Night

CHAPTER 2

Laurel ran all the way back to her corner between the buildings and tried to slow her heart while she waited. From the shadows, she watched.

A few minutes passed before Rowdy Darnell stepped in front of the table and tossed down ten dollars in bills and her ten dollar gold piece. The boy she remembered was gone, replaced by a man, hard and lean.

She smiled remembering how kind he’d been to her, helping her down from the surrey and asking her to take a walk. Something no other man in town had ever done. He might look like a man most would fear to cross, but somewhere in the man still lived the boy this town had sacrificed so that none of their sons would go to jail.

Laurel waited for one of the men to recognize him, but none seemed to. Too many families had moved in and out in these parts.

Jeffery Filmore, one of the town’s junior bankers, fingered the money. “Mighty lot of money to toss away if you’re no good.”

“I’m good,” Rowdy answered without a hint of brag in his tone.

The banker snuffed. “Might be, might not be. That’s what we’re here to find out.” He shoved a chart toward Rowdy. “List your name and check every event you’re planning on entering. You got to enter at least three of the four to have a shot at the big prize.”

Rowdy wrote his name and drew a line across all the squares.

The banker raised an eyebrow. “You planning on trying them all.”

“I am.”

Filmore shook his head. “Most cowhands sit out one or two that they don’t think they can place in. It’ll give you time to rest and lessen the chances you get busted up on something you don’t have a chance of winning.”

Rowdy took the number off the top of the pile. “I’ve spent enough time resting and I figure I got a chance at them all. You got an objection?”

Filmore stared at him a moment, then backed down. “No, none at all.”

Rowdy turned and walked back toward the livery. He never glanced at the alley shadows, but Laurel had a feeling he knew she was watching him.

She let out a long-held breath. He was registered. She’d been waiting for two years for this chance. If he won, she’d have enough money to run.

When she’d finished school she’d had offers to go to work in Houston and Austin, but her father had insisted she come home to straighten out his books. Three months later, when she had them in good order, she found her small inheritance from her mother had vanished. Her father made sure she had no money to leave. He wanted her to work for him and remain home under his control. Now, after two years, she saw a way out.

Feeling brave, she stepped out of the shadows and walked into the hotel lobby before Jeffery Filmore had time to notice her. The banker had a habit of looking at her the way he looked at his meal when he came to dinner with her father. She was something he planned to have, maybe even enjoy. He hadn’t even asked her yet, but Jeffery Filmore was already talking to her father about setting a date for their wedding. He wanted his ring on her finger and her working in his bank before fall.

Her father’s only hesitation seemed to be that he needed her to do his bookkeeping until after roundup. Neither of the men had ever considered what she wanted. With no funds of her own, her father knew she wasn’t going anywhere and Jeffery knew no other man in town bothered to speak to her. So, to their way of thinking, she was just something to pass from one to the other when the time was right.

Laurel almost laughed as she crossed the empty hotel lobby and entered the small parlor where ladies could have lunch or tea without being exposed to the noisy bar area near the back.

She wasn’t surprised the room was empty. Her sisters would love the thrill and the audience in the back room. It was more a café than a saloon, but Laurel knew her father wouldn’t approve of his darlings sitting among the cowhands. She also knew she’d never tell him because if she did, he’d either laugh or tease her little sisters about how bold they were, or blame Laurel for allowing them to go into such a place.

Sitting by the window, Laurel folded her hands in her lap and waited. The room smelled of pipe smoke. Dust reflected off the furniture as thick as fur in places. The innkeeper obviously saw the room as a bother, but probably kept it to promote the appearance of respectability. He made far more money off the drinks and food in the back.

“Sorry, miss”—a young maid, with hair the color of rust, leaned in the door—“I didn’t know you was there. Would you like something?”

Laurel swallowed hard. “No, thank you. I’d like to just wait here if I may.”

The girl disappeared without a word.

Laurel closed her eyes. She was the daughter of Captain Hayes and his first wife. Her father was very likely the richest man in the county. She could walk into any store in town and buy whatever she liked on account.

But, Laurel almost said aloud, she didn’t have enough cash to buy a cup of tea.

The ten dollar gold piece had been a gift from the headmaster when she’d graduated. Laurel had kept it with her for two years, hoping one day she’d be brave enough to buy a train ticket for as far as ten dollars would take her. Once she’d asked if she could have the salary her father paid the last bookkeeper. Her father had laughed and told her she was lucky to have a roof over her head and food to eat.

“Miss?” The young maid stood at the doorway with a wicker tray the size of a plate. “A lady upstairs ordered this tea, then said she didn’t want it. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d take it.”

“But I haven’t—”

“There ain’t no charge for it.” She set the tray on the table next to Laurel.

“Thank you.” Laurel smiled. “You’re very kind.”

Rusty curls tossed about her shoulders. “We all do what we can, miss, to help each other.”

Laurel felt humbled by the maid. She offered her hand.

“I’m Laurel Hayes.”

“I’m Bonnie Lynn.” The maid laughed nervously. “Pleased to meet you, I am.” Now it was the maid’s turn to be uncomfortable. “I got to go.”

“I hope to see you again,” Laurel said. “Thanks for the tea.”

Bonnie Lynn nodded and hurried out of the room.

Laurel leaned back and sipped her tea. She’d let go of her ten dollars on a hope. A hope that if it paid off would allow her to go all the way to Kansas City, or Houston, or maybe even Santa Fe. She’d have enough money for the train and then a few months at a boardinghouse. She’d look for a job at a bank or as a bookkeeper. She was good at what she did. Her father’s books had never been off a penny since she’d started managing them.

Lost in her daydreams and plans, Laurel didn’t hear Jeffery Filmore come into the hotel until he was at the door to the parlor. He always reminded her of a bear someone had dressed up and trained to act proper. When he removed his hat, his hair wiggled across his balding head like thin, wrinkled wool and his complexion always appeared sunburned.

“There you are,” he bellowed. “I saw your sisters come in and guessed you’d be about.”

Laurel didn’t answer. She never answered his ramblings for Jeffery talked only to hear himself.

She expected him to storm off, but he barged into the room and stuck out a piece of paper. “Your father wanted a list of the names of those who entered for best all-around in the rodeo. You can take it out and save me a trip. I know it’s not as many as he’d hoped would enter, but after seeing some of the rough stock a few of the men backed out. They say one of the steers turned on a roper and killed him in El Paso last month. Some of the bucking horses look like they’re too mean to be worth the bullet it’d take to kill them.”

“Isn’t that the kind of stock a rodeo needs?” she asked.

“Yeah, it makes for wild rides and a man who puts much value on his life would be wise to stay in the stands and watch.”

She lowered her head, hoping he’d leave.

Like a nervous elephant, he shifted from foot to foot.

Finally, she looked up.

He didn’t wait for her to ask any questions. “I’ve come to terms with your father, Laurel. We’ll marry the end of August. No frills, just a small ceremony after Sunday services so I can teach you what you don’t know that afternoon. My bank records require a higher standard than your father’s ranch accounts.”

“But . . .”

He rushed on as if he already knew what she might ask. “You’re to have a new dress, of course, for the wedding, but nothing too fancy. I see no need for parties, or a honeymoon. I’ve already had that with my first wife, and your father agrees with me that such things are just a waste of money.”

Laurel stared openmouthed at his ramblings. She wanted to shout that she’d never been asked to marry him and, if she had been, she would have said no.

Jeffery didn’t stop. “You’ll work with me at the bank Monday through Thursday, then I’ll drive you out and you can do your father’s books Friday and Saturday. Your father said you could ride out alone. You’ve been making the trip between there and town for years, but I see no need to have to board a horse in town. I’ll take you and pick you up.”

He paused as if allowing questions in his lecture.

A hundred screams log-piled in her mind, but all she managed to say was, “I’ll have Sundays off?”

He huffed again. “Of course. A banker and his family are expected to be in church every week. It adds stability to his name. After church, we’ll want to invite your father and sisters to dinner. It’s only proper if they make the drive into town. He assures me you’re a passable cook. Once they’re gone, you’ll need time to do the laundry.”

Her head felt like mice were eating away inside it. All rational thought left her. “Family. What family?” she started before he interrupted her.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re far too old for it to be cute to play dumb.” He frowned at her as if he found her only mildly tolerable. “I’m not a young man, Laurel. We’ll have a baby before we’re married a year. I prefer a son, but if it doesn’t happen, we’ll try again until I have an heir who can eventually take over the bank.”

He stared at her. “You are a virgin? I told your father I’d have nothing less.”

As she reddened, he laughed. “Of course you are. You know little of these things, but I know my seed is strong. My first wife was pregnant within a month of our marriage, but she wasn’t healthy enough to stay alive to deliver full term.” He stared at her. “Don’t worry, your father says you ride every day. Such exercise makes you strong and hardy.” He grinned to himself. “My seed will grow in you. You’re like rich dirt, from strong stock and ready to be made use of. Lots of children will round that thin frame out nicely in time.”

Laurel was too horrified to answer. She lowered her head and focused on the piece of paper Jeffery had given her. Rowdy Darnell’s name stood out.

He had to win, her mind whispered. He had to.

The banker heard her sisters and hurried to pay his respects without another word to her. He was all smiles and pats with them. Like her father, Jeffery seemed to think every senseless thing they said was funny. She could imagine what his Sunday dinners would be like.

She almost laughed aloud. They’d be pretty much like they were now. Sunday was the housekeeper’s day off. So Laurel cooked and cleaned up while everyone else complained that none of the food was good enough, hot enough or served fast enough.

Laurel closed her eyes and blocked out all the noise coming from the others. She focused on the way Rowdy had touched her waist so gently when he’d helped her down from the surrey and again in the shadows when he’d bumped into her.

She smiled. He’d touched her as if she mattered.