a spoke in his wheel.
“You know he nabbed Jackson at Lydia’s place? She’s fit to be tied and sent me over here to see about it.” As expected, Tully was so riled he was ready to slap Beauregard in jail and release Ned.
“No respect, Deacon. I’m telling you these young’uns coming up aren’t like me and you. They’ve got no respect for the rules.”
Deacon winced when the sheriff aligned their ages since Tully was sixty if he was a day and Deacon was thirty-three. Nevertheless, he let the image of old comrades fighting against insolent youth stand without comment.
Ned Jackson was duly brought out from the cell where he’d been sleeping. For having arrived only hours before, he looked pretty rough and smelled worse.
“You keeping pigs back there, Harold?” Deacon coughed and backed away from Jackson.
“Evidently, he rolled in his own filth for a while after the butler caught him.” Harold wiped his eyes and then held a thick handkerchief over his nose.
“I thought you said Beau Beauregard brought him in.”
“He did. But after Beauregard left, this one kept talking about the butler. He didn’t make sense and smelled so bad I didn’t spend a lot of time listening.”
“I’m an innocent citizen.” When it looked as if he was getting out based on the misdeeds of the bounty hunter, Ned offered a new version of the story and claimed he’d been attacked and dragged off the street by a crazy kid with a wolf.
Harold waved his hand at him, indicating he wanted him gone.
“Hope the Eclipse Bank doesn’t jump the gun and pay that promissory note,” Deacon drawled.
“I’ll wire ’em soon as you leave,” Harold assured him.
“I’ll give your regards to Lydia.” Deacon tipped his hat to Harold and followed Jackson out the door. As soon as the counterfeiter’s foot hit the Fort Worth sidewalk, Deacon grabbed him from behind and nudged him toward the horse. “Lydia sent for you.”
“Oh for God’s sake. Your job’s done. Turn me loose, you fool.”
“Can’t do it. I wouldn’t want you to disappoint Lydia. That was a fine story you were telling inside. How about telling me now what really happened? Did the butler catch you or did Beauregard?”
“The squirrely bastards are one and the same. The butler was on the street when I arrived. He marched me behind the building, knocked me silly, tied me up like a Christmas turkey and shoved me under the porch.”
Heat prickled under Deacon’s skin, racing up to burn his face with a deep blush. He’d rather not have had Beauregard witness his visit to a whorehouse.
“What business did you have at Lydia’s place?” Covering his discomposure, he questioned Ned.
“Same business every man has when he visits a whorehouse.”
The brothel owner’s outlaw friend wasn’t forthcoming with more information and he needed a bath before Deacon was getting close enough to question him in depth. Until that happened, Deacon mounted his horse and walked behind Jackson, herding him down the street toward the Pleasure Dome.
Once there, Lydia smelled Ned and sent him to her private apartment to bathe. Deacon ordered breakfast and ate in the dining room. Clean and hungry, Ned wandered in with a plate stacked high with food.
“Still here, McCallister?” The counterfeiter was a banty rooster of a fellow and it seemed clear he wanted Deacon gone from Lydia’s dining room. “You fetched for her. You can leave now.”
He looked as if he had more to say but Lydia joined them for coffee. Ned suddenly had more interest in eating the crepes than talking to Lydia. She, on the other hand, demanded answers.
“You will tell me right now what you’re involved in this time.” Lydia demonstrated impatience rather than affection toward the outlaw.
“Siblings?” Deacon finished his coffee and set the cup down. His guess wasn’t that outlandish since once he was cleaned up, Ned proved to be a masculine version of Lydia.
“Twins. I’m the respectable
“You know he nabbed Jackson at Lydia’s place? She’s fit to be tied and sent me over here to see about it.” As expected, Tully was so riled he was ready to slap Beauregard in jail and release Ned.
“No respect, Deacon. I’m telling you these young’uns coming up aren’t like me and you. They’ve got no respect for the rules.”
Deacon winced when the sheriff aligned their ages since Tully was sixty if he was a day and Deacon was thirty-three. Nevertheless, he let the image of old comrades fighting against insolent youth stand without comment.
Ned Jackson was duly brought out from the cell where he’d been sleeping. For having arrived only hours before, he looked pretty rough and smelled worse.
“You keeping pigs back there, Harold?” Deacon coughed and backed away from Jackson.
“Evidently, he rolled in his own filth for a while after the butler caught him.” Harold wiped his eyes and then held a thick handkerchief over his nose.
“I thought you said Beau Beauregard brought him in.”
“He did. But after Beauregard left, this one kept talking about the butler. He didn’t make sense and smelled so bad I didn’t spend a lot of time listening.”
“I’m an innocent citizen.” When it looked as if he was getting out based on the misdeeds of the bounty hunter, Ned offered a new version of the story and claimed he’d been attacked and dragged off the street by a crazy kid with a wolf.
Harold waved his hand at him, indicating he wanted him gone.
“Hope the Eclipse Bank doesn’t jump the gun and pay that promissory note,” Deacon drawled.
“I’ll wire ’em soon as you leave,” Harold assured him.
“I’ll give your regards to Lydia.” Deacon tipped his hat to Harold and followed Jackson out the door. As soon as the counterfeiter’s foot hit the Fort Worth sidewalk, Deacon grabbed him from behind and nudged him toward the horse. “Lydia sent for you.”
“Oh for God’s sake. Your job’s done. Turn me loose, you fool.”
“Can’t do it. I wouldn’t want you to disappoint Lydia. That was a fine story you were telling inside. How about telling me now what really happened? Did the butler catch you or did Beauregard?”
“The squirrely bastards are one and the same. The butler was on the street when I arrived. He marched me behind the building, knocked me silly, tied me up like a Christmas turkey and shoved me under the porch.”
Heat prickled under Deacon’s skin, racing up to burn his face with a deep blush. He’d rather not have had Beauregard witness his visit to a whorehouse.
“What business did you have at Lydia’s place?” Covering his discomposure, he questioned Ned.
“Same business every man has when he visits a whorehouse.”
The brothel owner’s outlaw friend wasn’t forthcoming with more information and he needed a bath before Deacon was getting close enough to question him in depth. Until that happened, Deacon mounted his horse and walked behind Jackson, herding him down the street toward the Pleasure Dome.
Once there, Lydia smelled Ned and sent him to her private apartment to bathe. Deacon ordered breakfast and ate in the dining room. Clean and hungry, Ned wandered in with a plate stacked high with food.
“Still here, McCallister?” The counterfeiter was a banty rooster of a fellow and it seemed clear he wanted Deacon gone from Lydia’s dining room. “You fetched for her. You can leave now.”
He looked as if he had more to say but Lydia joined them for coffee. Ned suddenly had more interest in eating the crepes than talking to Lydia. She, on the other hand, demanded answers.
“You will tell me right now what you’re involved in this time.” Lydia demonstrated impatience rather than affection toward the outlaw.
“Siblings?” Deacon finished his coffee and set the cup down. His guess wasn’t that outlandish since once he was cleaned up, Ned proved to be a masculine version of Lydia.
“Twins. I’m the respectable
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