Dixie Moon, Page 3

  “That may be. Anyone else see the man cheat?” Gabe looked around, noting several men at the table shake their heads. He glanced at the other two. “Guess you’ll both have to come with me so we can sort this out.”

  “I ain’t going nowhere until I get my money back.” The man took one more step backwards, not noticing the piano player who’d come up behind him, a walking cane in his hand. Before the man could turn, the cane crashed down, knocking him unconscious.

  The silence, which followed, ended when the man in the derby hat pulled out his chair and sat down. “Gentlemen, shall we resume our game?” Picking up his cards, he didn’t once glance toward Gabe or Nick.

  “When I heard all the noise, I thought you might be in here.”

  Gabe turned to see Lena standing next to him, her gaze focused on him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There always seems to be some excitement when you’re here, as if it follows you through the door.” She moved to the bar, accepting a glass of whiskey from Paul before turning, surprised to see Gabe standing next to her, crowding her space.

  Although not entirely uncomfortable, his closeness, the way he brushed against her when others pushed for space, reminded her of how she felt years before when another man’s touch sparked the same sensations. After he’d disappeared, she vowed never to allow herself to be vulnerable again. Even though Gabe tempted her more than any man she’d ever known, she couldn’t let herself travel that dark path once more.

  Gabe tipped his glass toward her. “Do you ever wonder if it’s you and your girls who create the excitement, and lawmen like me who have to squelch the fire you start?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Gabe tilted his head toward the action a few feet away. “Your business is providing men liquor, gambling, and other entertainment. Most of these men haven’t been with a woman in a long time. The combination of alcohol and availability creates a powerful need waiting to combust. It doesn’t take much for the fire to ignite.”

  “Surely you don’t mean it’s the girls’ fault the men act as they do, pulling guns on each other and tossing out threats.” Lena turned toward him, her brows knitting together.

  Gabe reached behind him to grab the bottle of whiskey, topping off her glass and then his, missing the spark in her eyes. If he’d seen it, he might have decided to keep his next comments to himself.

  “You don’t believe offering what you do plays some part in the way men act?”

  “And what is it we offer, Sheriff?” Unlike her girls, Lena wore dresses covering her legs, the scooped necklines revealing little. In fact, her clothes were often more suitable for the theatre, rather than a saloon in an untamed frontier town.

  Gabe leaned away, letting his gaze wander up her body to the slim waist, ample curves, and smooth column of her neck before settling on full, red lips…lips he’d wanted to claim since the first time he’d seen her. He lifted his gaze, the heat he saw in her eyes a reflection of his own, choking rational thought from his mind.

  He took a sip of whiskey, then cleared his throat, his voice husky. “Escape, Lena. You offer men what they can’t find somewhere else—a way to forget their harsh lives, at least for a time.”

  His words knocked all the irritation from her. The look in his eyes, the undisguised desire and hunger, chipped away at the defenses she’d erected over many years. She took a step back, needing to create a shield from the onslaught of emotions his presence created.

  Gabe tossed back the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the bar.

  “It appears Nick has the saloon under control. I’d best get back to what the people pay me for.” Gabe took one more glance at Lena. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say more, then clamped them shut. He stalked toward the doors, letting them swing shut on creaky hinges.

  Lena watched his retreat, feeling an odd sense of emptiness when she glanced at the open space beside her. A shaky hand brought the glass to her lips. She took one sip, another, then swallowed what remained, letting the alcohol burn a path down her throat, numbing the hollow feeling in her chest.

  ~~~~~

  Chapter Three

  “Is the sheriff in?” Bernie Griggs, operator of the Western Union station and post office, held a message in his hand as he approached Cash.

  “Nope. He’s at the livery with Noah. Do you want me to take that for him?” Cash nodded at the paper Bernie held.

  Glancing at the telegram, Bernie shook his head. “I’d better deliver this one myself.” He dashed back into the morning sunshine, walking at a brisk pace toward the livery.

  Cash waited a moment before grabbing his hat and walking outside. Bernie had a way of making all messages seem important, and perhaps they were when people lived this far away from family and friends. This time, however, Cash noticed a sense of urgency, maybe even excitement, in Bernie’s face.

  “Sheriff!”

  Gabe glanced over his shoulder and stepped away from the forge where he’d been watching Noah prepare metal for a new tool Dax Pelletier ordered. He wiped a sleeve across his forehead and walked toward the door, letting the cool autumn breeze wash over him.

  “What can I do for you, Bernie?”

  “I got this message for you. Seems pretty urgent. Guess someone’s been trying to reach you for quite a spell.” He held out the missive, his gaze shifting to Noah as he raised his hammer to hit the metal resting on the anvil, then looked back at Gabe.

  Gabe read it through twice, taking a deep breath before folding it and sliding it into a pocket.

  “Do you want to send a response, Sheriff?” Bernie knew the contents of all telegrams coming into and going out of Splendor. Unlike some in other towns, he prided himself on keeping quiet about what he knew.

  “I’d better. Noah, I’ll be back later to discuss the changes at the jail.”

  Noah nodded, not liking the look on Gabe’s face when he read the message. It had been months since Gabe had received mail from his parents or siblings in New York. His parents had never understood why he’d given up a lucrative position in his father’s business or his uncle’s hotel, preferring to brave what they considered to be the wilderness. Noah guessed perhaps this was another of the messages urging him to return home.

  Gabe stepped up to the counter in the post office, scratching out a response and handing it to Bernie. He pulled out a coin. “That should cover it.”

  “I’ll let you know when there’s a response.”

  Stepping onto the boardwalk, Gabe dragged a hand through his hair, then settled his hat on his head. The last days of summer were giving way to the cooler breezes of autumn. In a few weeks, they’d experience their first snow of the approaching winter. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he let his mind drift as he crossed the dirt street toward the boardinghouse. Too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, he needed something to occupy himself as he thought through the urgent message from his father. Choices needed to be made, and soon.

  “Good morning, Gabe. What can I get you?” Suzanne wiped damp hands down her apron, then settled them on her hips, noticing his thoughtful expression. “Is everything all right?”

  “Coffee, if you have it ready.” He made his way to a table, ignoring her last question. Before she returned from the kitchen, the front door opened, Noah walking in and pulling out a chair at Gabe’s table.

  “What’s happened?” He leaned forward, his eyes locking with his friend’s.

  “Uncle James passed away.”

  Noah let out a slow breath, already knowing the implications of the news. It had been no secret Gabe’s uncle wanted him to return to New York after the war and take over the thriving hotel business he’d started over forty years before. The last Noah heard, he owned three swank establishments catering to wealthy Americans and travelers from Europe.

  The restaurants in each, which was where twelve-year-old Gabe first started working for his uncle, were considered first class. Bussing tables, hauling garbage, fetching carriages�
��whatever needed to be done, Gabe did it. He’d progressed until, at eighteen, he’d become the summer season manager of the newest hotel. Everyone expected him to take over one day, but that was before the war and his volunteering to serve the Union. It had caused a rift in the family that never quite healed, especially after Gabe and Noah decided to move west after the war.

  “What will you do?” Noah nodded at Suzanne as she placed cups of hot coffee before them.

  Gabe picked up his cup and took a sip, gazing over the rim. “Honest to God…I don’t know.”

  Noah sat back, crossing his arms and wondering what he’d do if a relative left him all his property and money. Gabe had always known the estate and businesses would pass to him when Uncle James died. A lifelong bachelor, James had been celebrated for his generosity in bestowing scholarships to deserving young men, founding orphanages, and donating to medical clinics on the eastern seaboard. That money was a mere pittance compared to the land and buildings he had owned outright, which were now the property of Gabe Evans, sheriff of Splendor, Montana.

  “How long do you have to decide?”

  “Not long enough. January first.” Gabe sat back, resting his hands on this thighs. He knew this day would come, he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. At fifty-five, Uncle James had looked and acted like a man of thirty. His uncle should’ve lived many more years.

  “Four months,” Noah murmured. “Did he include any provisions where you wouldn’t have to move to New York?”

  “I don’t know. My father believes not. I’ve sent a telegram to my uncle’s attorney. All I can do now is wait.”

  “More coffee?” Suzanne asked, setting bowls of stew before them. “I know you said you aren’t hungry, but since this appears to be a long conversation, I thought you might need it. No charge, of course.” She smiled and left them alone.

  Noah watched her leave, thinking how much she reminded him of his oldest sister. Always taking care of everyone, never complaining, content to make life better for her family and friends.

  “Maybe you’ll be able to sell the hotels and invest the money out here.” Even though they came out west together, if Gabe had to leave, Noah had no desire to return to New York. He’d built a life in Splendor with Abby. Both expected to start a family soon.

  “That’s my hope. There’s a lot of opportunity out here. It’s too bad Uncle James never found time to travel this way. I believe he would’ve been surprised.”

  “Good day, gentleman.” Nick walked up, Lena a few steps behind.

  The men stood, Gabe letting his gaze settle for a moment on Lena before pulling a chair out for her.

  “It’s a little early for the two of you to be taking lunch, isn’t it?” Lena set her reticule aside, straightening her skirt as she tried to avoid Gabe’s knee touching hers. Turning her head, she expected to see a smug expression. Instead, he seemed lost in his own thoughts, paying little attention to either her or Nick.

  “A little,” Noah replied. If Gabe wanted to share the news, he’d let him do it.

  “I received a telegram about a relative passing. The news may require me to travel to New York.” Gabe stirred the remaining stew in his bowl.

  “And you’d prefer not to.” Like the others at the table, Lena knew how long and tedious the journey east could be.

  “I’ll go, if needed.” Gabe finished his stew, pushing the bowl aside and standing. “I’d better get going.” He left without another word, leaving the others to stare at his retreating back.

  “Is he all right?” Nick asked Noah.

  “He will be. Gabe needs to sort out a few details and make some decisions, then—”

  Noah stopped at the sound of gunfire. Pushing back his chair, he ran outside, crouching on the walkway, cursing while drawing his gun at the sight before him.

  “What is it?” Lena pushed past Nick to kneel behind Noah, her face ashen. She leaned around him, a cry escaping her lips at what she saw.

  “Go back inside,” Noah growled, holding a hand up to warn her off.

  Nick grabbed her arm, pulling her behind him at the same time he saw Gabe sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. “Stay in the boardinghouse until I come back to get you,” he told her, slipping his revolver from its holster. He followed Noah, crouching low, making their way toward the Dixie, where gunshots still rang out.

  “Did you see anyone?” Nick asked as they got closer.

  “No.” Noah kept his gaze focused on Gabe, pointing his gun up the street to where Cash and Beau made their way toward the Dixie.

  “The saloon just opened. Who the hell would be shooting at this hour?” Nick ground out.

  “I don’t know, but I need to get to Gabe. Can you cover me?”

  “Yes, but be quick.” Nick shifted toward the saloon, pulling out a second gun and setting it beside him. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Go!” Nick began to shoot as Noah ran into the street to Gabe’s side. Not taking time to check the injuries, he grabbed his collar, dragging him back to the cover of the boardwalk, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Looking up, Noah saw the sign on the clinic window.

  “Doc!” Noah pounded on the door, then turned his attention back to Gabe.

  Turning him over, he spotted the wound low on Gabe’s right side and pushed the palms of his hands on it to stop the flow of blood, not hearing the clinic door open.

  “Move over. Let me take a look.” Doc Worthington nudged Noah aside, tearing Gabe’s shirt, putting pressure on the wound.

  “What can I do?” Suzanne knelt beside them, clean towels in her hand.

  “Apply pressure here.” He looked at Noah and Nick, who still had his gun trained on the saloon. “We need to get him into the clinic. I want to get the bullet out before he regains consciousness.”

  As they began to lift him, Noah heard Cash’s voice rise above the chaos in the saloon.

  “Drop your guns.” His booming voice rang down the street before he fired into the air. “Now.” The shooting had stopped the moment Cash and Beau entered the Dixie, each holding a pair of revolvers, angry expressions on their faces.

  Figuring the two deputies had the situation under control, Noah concentrated on getting Gabe inside the clinic without causing further injury.

  “Lay him on the table. Suzanne, I’ll need you to stay.” He looked at Noah and Nick. “You two need to leave.” Nick took one last look at Gabe, then walked out the door.

  Noah hesitated before Suzanne placed a hand on his arm. “Go, Noah. Doc will take good care of him.”

  “I’ll wait up front.” He closed the door between the room where Gabe lay unconscious and the front area with several wooden chairs aligned along two walls. Shoving both hands through his hair, he paced back and forth, trying to control the dread he felt at possibly losing his closest friend. His brother in all ways that mattered.

  “Noah, where is he?” Lena dashed through the door, heading straight toward the patient room.

  “Doc won’t let you in. Might as well wait here.”

  “But…” she whispered, her voice trailing off as her shoulders sagged.

  “He was unconscious, but breathing. The bullet didn’t go through, so Doc is trying to get it out before Gabe wakes up. I have to believe he’ll pull through.” Noah scrubbed a hand down his face, then looked over at her. “You need to do the same.”

  Lena lowered herself into a chair, taking hold of Noah’s hand as he sat next to her. Giving it an encouraging squeeze, she let go, lacing her fingers in her lap, wondering why she cared whether or not a man she’d known for a few months pulled through. The answer unnerved Lena, knowing she felt much more than friendship for this man.

  The instant she’d followed Noah outside to see Gabe’s prone body, she felt a piercing pain stab through her, sharper than anything she’d felt since…well, since the man she thought she loved betrayed her. If he pulled through—when he pulled through—she’d be thankful for his recovery, grateful he’d never
know she harbored such deep feelings for him.

  “Noah?” Abby walked through the door, taking tentative steps, kneeling before him. “How is Gabe?” She wrapped her hands around his, the corners of her eyes lined with worry.

  “I don’t know. Doc and Suzanne are with him.”

  Abby closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer, asking for Gabe’s recovery, knowing Doc would do all he could to save him. For the first time, her gaze met Lena’s.

  “Are you doing all right, Lena?”

  She nodded. “I decided to wait with Noah, but now that you’re here…” Her voice trailed off when the door opened and Doc walked out. All three stood as he came closer.

  “The bullet’s out. If he can get through the next few days without infection, he should make it.”

  “Can I see him?” Noah asked, tightening his grip on Abby’s hand.

  “He’s still out and should stay asleep for a while. You’re welcome to take a quick look if it will ease your mind.”

  “You go ahead, Noah. I’ll wait for you here.” Abby squeezed his hand, then let go, wrapping her arms around her waist as she sat back down, watching Noah slip through the open doorway.

  “I should be going. I’m so glad the surgery went well.” Lena picked up her reticule without waiting for Abby’s response, needing to get outside. Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  She felt conflicted. Until today, her feelings for Gabe hovered at the edge of awareness, waiting for her to acknowledge them. After the shooting, the possibility she’d never see him again forced Lena to accept how much she cared. The realization frightened her beyond reason. She’d allowed no room in her heart to love a man, trust him, and consider building a life together. She had responsibilities to Nick and to her close friend, Isabella Boucher, in Philadelphia. The two had supported her through all the depression and bad times when she thought she couldn’t go on. They believed in her, and the trust they showed created a new, stronger woman who could face most obstacles—except loving a man like Gabe Evans.