he was busy kidnapping one of my guests.” Lydia glared at him, anger marring her usual serene composure. Deacon frowned back.
“I have no interest in the peculiarities of your doorman. He’s well gone if he escaped your snare.” He focused on Lydia and said grimly, “But I do care about the young woman who came to my room.”
“If I knew who it was, I’d drag her here right now.” When she continued to deny knowing the name of the girl, Deacon opened the front door and started down the steps.
It was obvious Lydia wanted something from him as she walked with him to the street below. When they reached the bottom tread, she laid her hand on his arm to stop him.
“Robert, I’m telling you the truth. Melanie is my tallest girl. If I can find the Amazon you’ve described, she’ll be worth—”
Deacon’s hand wrapped around Lydia’s throat and he resisted the urge to throttle her. She gaped at him fearfully.
He dropped his hand, stepping away from the madam. The security guard aiming a gun at him was a chill reminder of the violence he’d almost unleashed.
He needed to find his night’s companion. He had proof in his saddlebag that she’d not been a prostitute in her past. He intended to see to it she never was. The frustration of having no name and no way to find her again left him gritting his teeth.
His long strides carried him away from the Pleasure Dome and down the street toward the stable. It was a shock when Lydia’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she hurried beside him, trying to keep up.
“Robert,” she panted, urgently demanding his attention. She grabbed his arm, whether to secure his interest or keep from toppling over, Deacon wasn’t sure. Since he’d choked the woman moments before, he stopped to see what was so important she braved his presence.
“I need you to go visit the Fort Worth sheriff’s office and see if any prisoners were brought in this morning.” White lines of tension showed around her mouth and her nails bit through the thickness of his shirt where she held on to him.
“Who am I asking about?”
“He goes by a lot of names.” Lydia’s answer spilled from her lips in a deluge of panic. “One of them is Ned Jackson. He was on his way here. He should have arrived yesterday. This morning, his horse is in my private barn but he’s not in the house.”
“And why should I care?” Deacon shrugged. He had no reason to help Lydia Lynch. On the other hand, here was Ned Jackson handed to him on a platter. He didn’t bother telling her that her friend was a counterfeiter.
“You need to help me because Annie was my friend and she’d want you to do this for me.” Lydia’s voice took on the petulant sound of a young girl.
“I seriously doubt that, Lydia.” But he had his own missing person to find. Since his quest began at the Pleasure Dome and he might need Lydia’s help to find the mystery woman before it was done, he agreed to visit the law office.
“And if your friend is in jail and I get him out?”
“Bring him here.”
* * * * *
Deacon’s visit to the Fort Worth law office bore fruit. He had no trouble getting the sheriff to talk. The town merchants had protested his crackdown on crime in the area. It was cyclical. After enough murders took place and too many whores committed suicide, the merchants would want him to get busy again. Meanwhile, Harold Tully spent more time polishing his gun than using it.
“Yep, that youngster Beauregard hauled Ned in this morning. Said he was a counterfeiter and government agents would be interested in talking to him.”
“You pay Beauregard?”
“I don’t keep money here, Deacon. I gave the kid a promissory note. He can cash it at any bank as soon as the US marshal comes in and confirms Ned is the man on the wanted poster.”
Well damn. The mouthy brat, a constant point of irritation, had tracked Jackson to Fort Worth and caught him. Deacon admired the kid’s skill at the same time he enjoyed putting
“I have no interest in the peculiarities of your doorman. He’s well gone if he escaped your snare.” He focused on Lydia and said grimly, “But I do care about the young woman who came to my room.”
“If I knew who it was, I’d drag her here right now.” When she continued to deny knowing the name of the girl, Deacon opened the front door and started down the steps.
It was obvious Lydia wanted something from him as she walked with him to the street below. When they reached the bottom tread, she laid her hand on his arm to stop him.
“Robert, I’m telling you the truth. Melanie is my tallest girl. If I can find the Amazon you’ve described, she’ll be worth—”
Deacon’s hand wrapped around Lydia’s throat and he resisted the urge to throttle her. She gaped at him fearfully.
He dropped his hand, stepping away from the madam. The security guard aiming a gun at him was a chill reminder of the violence he’d almost unleashed.
He needed to find his night’s companion. He had proof in his saddlebag that she’d not been a prostitute in her past. He intended to see to it she never was. The frustration of having no name and no way to find her again left him gritting his teeth.
His long strides carried him away from the Pleasure Dome and down the street toward the stable. It was a shock when Lydia’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she hurried beside him, trying to keep up.
“Robert,” she panted, urgently demanding his attention. She grabbed his arm, whether to secure his interest or keep from toppling over, Deacon wasn’t sure. Since he’d choked the woman moments before, he stopped to see what was so important she braved his presence.
“I need you to go visit the Fort Worth sheriff’s office and see if any prisoners were brought in this morning.” White lines of tension showed around her mouth and her nails bit through the thickness of his shirt where she held on to him.
“Who am I asking about?”
“He goes by a lot of names.” Lydia’s answer spilled from her lips in a deluge of panic. “One of them is Ned Jackson. He was on his way here. He should have arrived yesterday. This morning, his horse is in my private barn but he’s not in the house.”
“And why should I care?” Deacon shrugged. He had no reason to help Lydia Lynch. On the other hand, here was Ned Jackson handed to him on a platter. He didn’t bother telling her that her friend was a counterfeiter.
“You need to help me because Annie was my friend and she’d want you to do this for me.” Lydia’s voice took on the petulant sound of a young girl.
“I seriously doubt that, Lydia.” But he had his own missing person to find. Since his quest began at the Pleasure Dome and he might need Lydia’s help to find the mystery woman before it was done, he agreed to visit the law office.
“And if your friend is in jail and I get him out?”
“Bring him here.”
* * * * *
Deacon’s visit to the Fort Worth law office bore fruit. He had no trouble getting the sheriff to talk. The town merchants had protested his crackdown on crime in the area. It was cyclical. After enough murders took place and too many whores committed suicide, the merchants would want him to get busy again. Meanwhile, Harold Tully spent more time polishing his gun than using it.
“Yep, that youngster Beauregard hauled Ned in this morning. Said he was a counterfeiter and government agents would be interested in talking to him.”
“You pay Beauregard?”
“I don’t keep money here, Deacon. I gave the kid a promissory note. He can cash it at any bank as soon as the US marshal comes in and confirms Ned is the man on the wanted poster.”
Well damn. The mouthy brat, a constant point of irritation, had tracked Jackson to Fort Worth and caught him. Deacon admired the kid’s skill at the same time he enjoyed putting
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