A TEXAS STAND-OFF
Brad frowned as he craned his neck to see what the distraction was. A tall, red-haired girl stood in the middle of the entry, and now she marched into the room like a warship under full sail. She had hair the color of a forest fire, pulled back in a tight bun under a plain dark hat, and she wore a dark, no-nonsense dress. This was a respectable lady, there was no doubt about that. Now what was a respectable lady doing in a place like the Texas Lily?
The silence grew as everyone turned to look at her.
“I demand to see Mr. Bradley O’Neal,” she said in a back East accent that would cut glass with its sharpness.
Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good. Brad stood up from the poker table with a sigh and turned his hand upside-down on the table. “Anybody touches my cards before I get back, I’ll make him eat my derringer,” he drawled and then stepped forward to greet the lady. “Brad O’Neal at your service, ma’am,” he made a sweeping bow. “And to whom do I have the honor of—?”
“What is the meaning of all these shenanigans? This is no way to run a hotel. It must stop immediately.”
“What?” He was seldom at a loss for words, but any man would wither under the glare of those cold green eyes.
“Mr. O’Neal,” she snapped, “I am your new partner. I am Lillian Primm.”
Oh, hell, his luck really had run out.
Also by Georgina Gentry
Cheyenne Captive
Cheyenne Princess
Comanche Cowboy
Bandit’s Embrace
Nevada Nights
Quicksilver Passion
Cheyenne Caress
Apache Caress
Sioux Slave
Half-Breed’s Bride
Nevada Dawn
Cheyenne Splendor
Song of the Warrior
Timeless Warrior
Warrior’s Prize
Cheyenne Song
Eternal Outlaw
Apache Tears
Warrior’s Honor
Warrior’s Heart
To Tame a Savage
To Tame a Texan
To Tame a Rebel
To Tempt a Texan
To Tease a Texan
To Love a Texan
GEORGINA GENTRY
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
This story is dedicated to my sister, Stephanie Joyce, whose warm generosity of spirit and sense of humor have sustained this family through some very rough times. I love you, Sis, more than you know.
And also to Oklahoma’s own movie star, James Garner. I drew on his Western movies, his television series “Maverick” and the “Rockford Files,” featuring that dark, handsome wisecracking hero, to create Brad O’Neal.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Chapter One
The town of Fort Floppett, Texas, April, 1880
They were burying Lil McGinty today and it was the biggest funeral this east Texas town had ever seen. It would have been even bigger, Brad O’Neal thought, if the local men hadn’t been so chicken-livered and scared of their wives that they were afraid to attend.
So here he stood in the graveyard with the whores and card dealers, Delilah, the black cook, a billy goat named Herman, most of the single men of the town, plus cowboys from all over the county. Reverend Lovejoy was conducting the funeral, although his congregation might have something to say to him next Sunday. It was one thing to talk about redeeming the lowly and quite another to preach a respectable service for the biggest madam in the Lone Star state.
It was a warm day. Brad sighed and shifted the goat’s leash to his other hand so he could wave away a fly. He really missed Lil; she’d been a great old gal.
Reverend Lovejoy droned on and on, attempting to think of nice things to say about the sudden death of the owner of the most successful saloon and bordello in the county. Make that half owner. Because of Lil’s generosity in letting him buy in, Brad now owned half of the Texas Lily.
The reverend motioned Lil’s girls to come forward to sing. Unfortunately, none knew any hymns so they came out with an off-key chorus of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” Since it was spring, it didn’t seem too appropriate. Besides, Lil, while good-hearted and generous, was hardly an angel.
Reverend Lovejoy said a final prayer and Brad reached down to pat Herman, who was now chewing the edge of Brad’s frock coat.
“Oh, Reverend,” lawyer Dewey Cheatum spoke up, “I wanted to inform all Lil’s employees that in her will, Miss Lil left you each a hundred dollars so you wouldn’t have to work the day of her funeral.”
The customers moaned but the girls squealed with delight. “Now ain’t that thoughtful!”
The preacher flushed and cleared his throat.
Dewey Cheatum walked over and put his hand on the preacher’s shoulder, lowering his voice. “And there’s five hundred dollars for the church.” He nodded his gray, unkempt head.
“I don’t know if my congregation—”
“Oh, I’ll see that it’s anonymous.” The elderly lawyer assured him. “You know Lil was always generous with her money, covering everything from scholarships to charities.”
Lovejoy nodded in agreement.
Brad started to walk away, still leading the goat, but Dewey caught his arm. “I need to see you and Delilah in my office.”
“Sure.” Brad nodded and took off his hat, brushing back his black hair as he handed the leash to one of the whores. “Reckon you girls can walk back to the Lily,” he nodded toward the big Victorian house on a little rise at the end of the street. “Delilah, let’s go to Dewey’s office.”
The wrinkled old cook nodded and wiped her eyes. “Mr. Brad, it just don’t seem real that she’s gone.”
Lil was gone all right. Brad thought with a