He slammed the shot glass down on the bar. Lola was not going to win. It wasn’t over yet. Disgusted that he had skirted so close to ruin, he turned his back to the bar.
That’s when he spotted her, dressed to the nines, sashaying through the saloon doors with a fancy man on her arm whose most interesting feature was that he was not Jack Caldwell. Lola saw Dal the instant he saw her. Leaning to the ear of her escort, she whispered something then walked toward Dal, swinging her hips.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite cowboy,” she said with a gloating smile. “Bartender? I’m a rich woman now and I want to buy this puncher a drink. Give us both a whiskey.”
“Where’s Caldwell?”
“Him?” Her husky laugh turned a few heads. “Why, Dal honey, Jack didn’t work out. You can tell Luther that I fired Jack as my representative. Now that my prospects have improved, I don’t need a two-bit gambler helping me spend my money.”
He hooked his elbows on the bar and regarded her with interest. “You always planned to double-cross him, didn’t you?”
“That’s such a harsh way to put it, honey.” She tossed back the whiskey and signaled the bartender for another. “Let’s just say Jack’s usefulness ended.” Looking into the mirror on the back bar over Dal’s shoulder, she patted her curls and preened. “The poor boy took it real hard,” she said with a laugh.
Now, he smiled. He had anticipated this moment for years. “Enjoy it while you can, Lola honey, because you’ve got trouble coming.”
“My only problem is figuring how to spend all the money Luther is going to give me.”
“I sent a telegram to Emile Julie from Fort Worth. Told him where you were and where you were heading. I figure if Julie and his men left immediately, they should be in Abilene by now, waiting for you. Or maybe they’re working their way back along the trail.” He scanned the crowded saloon, running a lazy gaze over the faces. “Julie’s men could be here now, looking for a chance to slip a knife in your cheating heart.”
Whiskey slopped down the front of her gown. “You son of a bitch!”
“You aren’t going to live long enough to spend Joe’s money.”
“The hell I won’t,” she snapped. “I’ll instruct Luther to pay Julie out of my inheritance. All I have to do is put out the word that I’ll pay what the bastard thinks I owe him.”
“Luther isn’t going to release a penny until after the herd is officially counted. A lot can happen in a week.” And this conversation had given him an idea. Pushing away from the bar, he stood, enjoying the ashy paleness beneath her rouge. “You can go on into Abilene where I can guarantee Julie’s men are waiting to kill you. Or you can disappear from here.”
“You’re right. I could tell Luther to send my money to a safe place.”
He nodded, smiling. “You could do that. If you think Julie won’t be watching the telegraph office or the post office or Luther. If you think Julie isn’t smart enough to follow the money. If you believe he won’t track you out of here. Personally, I think you’re dead.”
She screamed at him, her face pulsing scarlet. “You son of a bitch!” She flew at him, but he grabbed her wrists.
“When a woman starts repeating herself, the conversation is over.” An icy smile curved his lips. “Rest in peace, Lola.” He flung her away from him and walked toward the door and out onto the noisy boardwalk.
Now all he had to do was find Jack Caldwell.
Chapter 23
He found Caldwell in a less-crowded saloon on a side street off Main, brooding in front of a bottle and a deck of cards. Dal pulled up a chair and rested his elbows on green felt.
“I just talked to Lola,” he said.
Caldwell refilled his shot glass. “She double-crossed me.” He tossed back the whiskey. “I won’t get a plugged nickel of the money that bitch wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for me. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll find a way to get even.”
“It won’t take the rest of your life. You can get even right now. Tonight.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Frisco?”
“How good are you with those cards?” He nodded at the deck on the table.
Without looking down, Caldwell fanned the cards in one hand. He stared. “I’m good enough to beat you any hour of any day.”
“This town is overflowing with cowboys and trail bosses. If I point out the trail bosses, can you beat one or two of them?” His expression hardened. “What I want is cattle, Caldwell. I want you to win twenty-five beeves. What the Roark sisters need plus a couple extra.”
Caldwell stared then fell back in his chair with a growing smile. “Sweet. I get what I want, revenge when Lola loses. And you get what you want, sixty thousand dollars.” He riffled the cards between his fingers. “Split the sixty, and you got a deal.”