"My son?" He frowned and popped open the case. His brow cleared. "Thanks." He closed it and set it on the counter. "But Reuben's not my son."

"He's not?" This news gave Inez pause. She focused on untying the kerchief from her arm to hide her consternation. "But, I thought you were kin." She dropped the cloth on a clean spot on the counter.

"We are. He's my brother's son."

The bartender finally whipped by. "What'll it be, gents?" she snarled.

Preston ordered, while Inez digested that bit of information. When the bartender had delivered the bottles, Inez said, "So, that picture isn't you."

Preston opened the case again. "Nope. My brother. Folks always did say we looked alike."

"Your brother." The words were like a lamp shining in the darkness. "Hiram."

He looked at her curiously and nodded.

"I heard he worked with you and Reuben on the railroad. For a while."

"Yep." A shadow crossed his face. "Workin' for the Rio Grande didn't agree with him."

She exhaled in relief. "I'll admit, I thought the likeness you. But I couldn't see how you came to wear a Rebel outfit when you fought for the North."

"We fought on different sides, Hiram and me. Happened in plenty of families." He started to close the case.

She laid a hand on top of his, to stop him. "Do you know the other man in the photograph?"

Preston was not looking at the image but at her. She withdrew her hand.

He glanced at the photograph. "Nope." He shut the case and tucked it away in a pocket. "I'll see this gets back to Reuben."

He took a swallow from the bottle before asking, "Where's Jay Sands these days?"

"He left about a week ago." She turned her back to the bar and stared at the dance floor and the waltzing couples. "He didn't tell me where he was going. And I don't care." The lie came hard, the words bit off like so much tough jerky.

"Hmmmm." Preston grew silent.

The waltz ended, and while couples shuffled and reformed, the bra.s.s band and pianist returned to their posts, renewed and recharged. The whole ensemble began a fast version of a song Inez recognized as the "Bluebird Waltz." "Bluebird" brought to mind Birdie Snow. Inez did a slow burn, imagining Birdie and Sands waltzing somewhere.

She turned to Preston, who, like her, was watching the dancers. "Are you working tomorrow?" she asked.

"Nope." He swirled the beer bottle around in one hand, now watching Inez intently.

"Well. I am. But later in the day. I was wondering." She cleared her throat. "I have this Sharps rifle I bought recently. On impulse."

"You were packing that when we met."

"Oh." She colored in a most unmanly manner. "That's right. I was. Well. I've been wanting to try it out. I'm not a bad shot, all in all, but something like the Sharps....So, I wondered if you might be free to accompany me tomorrow morning. Go for a ride. Do some," she took a deep breath, "shooting?" The word almost came out a squeak. "I don't mean to be forward." She shifted her gaze to the door, not wanting to read his expression right then. "It just would be helpful to get some pointers from an expert on handling-"

She stopped.

Entering the Red Garter were Reuben and the professor.

"Sure."

Startled, she looked back at him, momentarily forgetting what she'd asked. "Oh. Excellent. And thank you. The earlier the better, if that's possible."

"I'll ride into town. Meet you. Unless you prefer riding out of town solo like-" He nodded at her, taking in her attire.

"No, no. I only do this when I'm trying not to attract attention." Well, that didn't come out right! She hurried on. "And I can bring a sort of picnic." For G.o.d's sake, quit babbling, Inez! "Is seven too early?"

"Seven's fine."

"Good. Let's meet at the foot of Third. That way you don't have to deal with the traffic getting into town." And I won't have to deal with anyone who might inadvertently see us on their way to church. "I should be going. Tonight's the usual game, and I need to get ready."

"I'll ride back with you."

"No need. I'm not afraid of riding to town by myself."

"Seems you're not afraid of much." This was said with a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt.

"So some say," she replied with a smile, then looked deliberately beyond him. "Ah," she said, as if just seeing them. "What timing! Reuben's here. And the professor. If you get a chance to ask Reuben about the man in the photo, I'd appreciate it. I can explain more on Sunday."

Then, Inez saw Delaney enter. A chill sharp as frost crawled up her back.

Delaney looked around, searching.

She tugged her hat down lower over her face. "I really should be going," she said desperately. "Thank you so much for the beer. And the dance. I enjoyed it." She allowed herself a quick sideways glance. "Immensely."

"A pleasure." He doffed his hat, smiling.

She wondered if he had any inkling as to just how much a pleasure it had been for her. And whether the feeling was mutual.

"Leastways, I can walk you to the door," said Preston.

"I think Reuben might require your a.s.sistance more than me."

Reuben was having difficulty getting around a contentious threesome. Two men seemed to be arguing over who had the next dance with a certain faded lily-of-the-valley. Each of them had possession of a plump white arm and was trying to hand her a coin. Said lily was swatting their hands and, from all appearances, engaging in verbal abuse in return. Inez judged it a situation that could easily escalate. She didn't want to be inside when it did.

As Reuben tried to squeeze past one of the men, the fellow inadvertently elbowed him in the chest. Inez saw Reuben's face, still bruised from the brouhaha at the Silver Queen, darken in anger. He shoved the man back.

Delaney had caught up with the professor, who was frozen in his tracks. He spoke urgently to the professor, who answered something short. They both looked toward Preston and started scanning the crowd.

I'll bet I know who they're looking for.

As people gathered to watch the row developing between Reuben and the threesome, Inez found an opening and made a break for the exit.

Nearly at the door, she stopped. Dammit! I should have looked at their boots!

There was no opportunity now. Feet were well hidden by the shifting ma.s.s of humanity crowded around the trio, who were all yelling at Reuben, who was swearing back to beat them all.

Inez dashed out the door and slammed square into the bony frame of ex-marshal and livery owner Bart Hollis. Hollis grabbed her arm, snarling, "Watch it, stranger!" Then, after closer scrutiny, he said, "Oh h.e.l.l. You." And released her arm as if he'd grabbed a rattlesnake by the tail.

The barker hurried up. "Leaving already? The night's still young."

Screams and shouts erupted from inside. Alarmed, the barker drew his gun and dashed through the entrance.

Inez made a run for the hitching rail.

Hollis caught up as she struggled with the knot. "Hold on. I hear you've been pumping old Jack about Eli Carter. What's your game, Miz Stannert?"

"No game," she snapped, trying to undo the impossibly tangled granny knot and keep an eye on the door at the same time, hoping against hope that Delaney would not suddenly erupt from the saloon. "What's yours?"

"Whaddya mean?"

She abandoned the knot and set her hands on the rail, leaning forward, glaring at him as he stood on the boardwalk looking down at her.

Rather than defend, she determined that the best course of action was to attack. "You say you and Eli fought together. But you did not. You say the two of you were best of friends. Again, you were not. He'd turned away from the war and its aftermath. You did not. You say he had no family, but he had a wife. So. Just how sorry were you really to see Eli go? I know you followed him out of town when he left. Did you have anything to do with his disappearance?"

Hollis retreated a step, face slack in amazement. "You think I killed Eli? h.e.l.l, I was as surprised as anyone when he packed up and left. I rode out after him, caught up outside Malta. I thought he'd gone crazed, touched in the head, t' up and leave like that. We talked. Well, yelled, more like it. He said, 'Take the d.a.m.n business. I don't want it, there ain't nothing for me here.' Told me he had something to do, an' I wasn't part of it. Took off down the road. That was the last I saw of him."

Inez put a fist on the rail, furious. "You didn't even try to stop him."

"I wish to h.e.l.l I had." Hollis' face was uncharacteristically sober in the flickering light spilling from the flyspecked window of the Red Garter.

"So, what are you doing here?" She turned back to the knot.

"Trying to set things right. Get some answers. Follow up on a couple things that Eli said to me once, and that Jack said." His eyes narrowed. "What are you doin' here?"

The knot gave way. "Leaving."

Tossing the reins over Lucy's head, Inez grabbed the saddle horn and hauled herself up onto the saddle.

A quick touch with one heel and a sideways pull of the reins turned Lucy away from the h.e.l.lhole of a dance hall. Just before heading out, Inez glanced back. Hollis stood there, staring at her.

But what really caused her to clench the reins tighter was a figure emerging from the entrance and moving into the flickering illumination of the saloon's window.

Delaney.

Half of his face was illuminated, the rest in darkness. But it was clear he was looking directly at her.

He lifted his hand, finger extended like a gun-and pulled the trigger.

She rode away as if the devil were on her heels.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE.

As Inez burst through the doors of the saloon, Abe said, "You don't have much time, Mrs. Stannert."

"I'll hurry. I rode straight here, poor Lucy's tied up outside. I probably won't take her to the C&H tonight, since I'll be out early tomorrow. Please ask Sol to take her to the livery around the corner."

"Tomorrow?" Abe wiped his hands on a rag. "We've got the Fairplays comin' in the afternoon. They're countin' on you to supply the music, remember."

"Of course I remember," she said too quickly.

Abe searched her face. "Just it seems you've got your mind on somethin' other than business these days."

"What I do on my own time is irrelevant. I'm here when I'm supposed to be. Plus some. Now, if some of my regulars arrive early, offer them a drink. We're going to use the new room upstairs tonight but have them wait here until I come back down."

Inez hurried up to her dressing room behind the office and stripped. She tossed the filthy clothes into the shadows and filled her washbasin nearly to the brim. She pulled out the oilcloth she used for the floor and stepped onto it. A hunt through the forest of bath and toiletry items on the shelves beneath the stand turned up clean towels and the odd flesh-brush or two before she uncovered the spirits of ammonia. She uncapped the bottle, swirled two teaspoonfuls into the cold wash water, and scrubbed vigorously with the brush, her skin p.r.i.c.kling with goose b.u.mps. After drying off with a coa.r.s.e Turkish towel, she felt raw, but clean. Now I won't smell of horse, dust, and that wretched whiskey from the Red Garter.

She returned to the shelves, finally finding the bottle she was searching for. Inez checked that the stopper was tight and shook the bottle to mix the glycerine, alcohol, and rose water. She rubbed the mixture on her hands, arms, throat, and face. Finally, she pulled out the hair dressing that Bridgette had given her: "Olive oil, good bay rum, one dram of oil of almonds. You just shake it up is all. It will bring out the highlights in your beautiful hair."

I just want it to clear me of the smell of that place.

She poured some into her palm, raked it through her hair, whipped a brush through the strands, and used a battalion of pins to fasten it back and up.

Dressing quickly, she pondered over the day's events.

Tomorrow, when Preston and I have no distractions, I shall find out the exact relation between Hiram and Eli. And once and for all, the identification of the railroad man that rode that stray horse.

She was back downstairs in record time to find only Doc, looking lost and forlorn, standing in the middle of the empty gaming room.

He turned, brandy in one hand, his cane in the other. "So, Mrs. Stannert, where are we meeting, if not here?"

"The upstairs room is ready for us." She caught his arm. "Come on up. I'd like to talk with you alone for a moment, in any case. Seems like we don't have any time together anymore." She stopped by the bar to retrieve her brandy and coffee and instructed Sol and Abe to send up the other regulars when they arrived. "Jed's bringing some newspaper men," she added. "So let's do our best to entertain them."

As they ascended the stairs, Inez asked, "Doc, I've wondered all week. Why didn't you press charges against Reuben when he shot at you during the fracas last Sat.u.r.day?"

"I suppose we can thank General Palmer." He gripped the banister with one hand, his cane in the other. "What came to mind at the time was Palmer's brush with the young bushwhacker, and the good general's response. I thought, if he could be magnanimous in war and absolve the youngster who shot at him, well, I could do the same for an act of pa.s.sion committed during a brawl."

"That was very n.o.ble of you." Inez thought she herself would not have been so n.o.ble, under similar circ.u.mstances.

Inez then prepared to play her first bluff of the evening. "Doc, I also wanted to talk to you about Reverend Sands. I'm very worried." She manufactured a low tone, injecting hesitancy and anxiety, and a small note of apology. "He asked me not to speak of his trip to anyone, but I know you're aware of the details. So, I hope I can confide in you. You see, he promised he'd get word to me, let me know that all is well, and I've not heard a thing." She hugged Doc's arm to her side, at the same time helping him up the last five stairs. "This business he's involved in for the railroad and Snow...." She allowed her voice to trail off, throwing a sharp look at Doc from under her half-closed eyes. Let's see if my hunch is right or wrong.

Doc looked out of breath, but not surprised. He nodded, lips pursed.

She continued, "I'm concerned about the danger. And now I see Snow around town." Without his daughter. And where, pray tell, is she? Out gallivanting with Sands? "I can hardly sleep for worrying." She tried to look distressed, not incensed, as befitted a woman pining for her man.

Her act, while perhaps not of the caliber of Maude Fairplay's, was apparently good enough to convince Doc.

On the landing Doc stopped to catch his breath. "There, there. Don't fret." He patted her hand. "As you know, the good Reverend J. B. Sands is a man who knows his business. And not just the preaching business. Everything he did for the Union, so long ago. Behind enemy lines and so on." Doc's eyebrows jiggled up and down meaningfully.