“Legitimate, huh?” He grinned. “Does that mean no faro?”
Roy chuckled. “I’ve got other cards to play. In fact, you’re just the man to help me play them.”
It was just like Roy to speak in riddles. “What do you have in mind?”
“It involves a mutual friend of ours.”
“Who?”
“Mary Larue.”
Live or die, J.T. would do anything to keep Roy away from Mary. “What about her?”
The man indicated the door. “Come inside and we’ll talk.”
J.T. swung off his horse and tied off the reins. With Fancy Girl at his side, he followed Roy into the opera house. Trying to look bored, he entered the cavernous foyer as if he walked around such places every day. He didn’t, and the opulence stunned him. Thick carpet covered the floor, and the walls were crimson with gold stripes. Brass wall sconces caught the light from the open door and shimmered like flames. Even the air felt like velvet.
J.T. let out a low whistle. “Pretty nice.”
“Nothing but the best.” Roy led the way to a double door and opened it wide. “This is the stage.”
With Fancy next to him, J.T. walked into the heart of the theater. At least fifty rows of upholstered seats fanned out from the stage, and a curtain the size of a barn hung from the ceiling. Five chandeliers formed the points of a star, and two balconies jutted from the wall. The last time J.T. had seen Roy, he’d been a two-bit gambler. How had he ended up among the Denver upper crust? And what did he want from Mary? He signaled Fancy Girl to sit, then surveyed the theater again. “This place is huge.”
“It’s the biggest opera house in town.” Roy put his hands in his pockets. “Things are going well, but I’ve got a bit of a problem.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I manage this place for a group of investors.” Roy’s jaw twitched. J.T. had played cards with him and knew his mannerisms. The tic signaled a bluff. “Those men are expecting a solid return on what we’ve put into this place.”
“Like sold-out shows?”
“Yes.” His jaw twitched again. “There are two ways to make money in this business. Bawdy shows draw big crowds, but like I said, I’ve gone legitimate. Denver has money now. Big money, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know.” Denver was full of millionaires who’d made their fortunes from mining and the railroad. These folks wanted classy entertainment, not cheap burlesque.
Roy wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief. “My investors have high expectations, so I’m putting on an opera. That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” J.T. pretended to misunderstand. “I can’t sing a lick.”
Roy chuckled. “No, but Mary Larue can. Rumor has it you two were quite a pair in Abilene.”
How did Roy know about Kansas? Was Mary already involved with him? J.T. fought to sound casual. “Who told you that?”
“I was in Abilene during the O’Day trail.” Roy shook his head. “What a shame. It ruined her career. That woman sings like a nightingale.”
J.T. hadn’t pressed Mary for details about the scandal, but he didn’t mind quizzing Roy. “What happened?”
“You don’t know?”
“I left on business.”
The theater manager propped his hips on the back of a seat. “The whole town was buzzing about the two of you. After you left, O’Day figured she was up for grabs. He followed her out of the theater and tried to—” Roy let his implication stand. “She shot him.”
J.T. knew all that. “What happened after the trial?”
“She left town.” Roy shook his head. “That’s when the gossip got really bad, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Roy laughed. “You dodged a bullet, Quinn. Be thankful.”
The remark struck J.T. as odd, but Roy was known for talking in circles. Even so, J.T. wondered…what bullet? Thinking about it, he decided Roy meant marriage. For once J.T. had to agree with him. He felt bad about leaving Mary, but he wasn’t the marrying kind.
Roy’s eyes glinted. “Mary and I have gotten to be friends. I asked her to star in my opera, but she turned me down. I’m hoping you’ll help me change her mind.”
J.T. looked around the theater with its chandeliers and velvet seats. The hall held the stuff of Mary’s dreams, but she’d turned Roy down to keep the Abilene scandal a secret. He felt bad about the reason, but he liked her refusal. He looked Roy in the eye. “Mary said no. It’s her choice. Not mine.”
“I thought you might have some influence. From what I hear, you had her wrapped around your little finger.”
No man wrapped Mary around his finger. She’d been good to him because she’d cared about him, and he’d taken advantage. The memory shamed him. “Mary’s her own woman.”
Roy’s eyes gleamed like black stones. “So you don’t have a claim on her?”
“What are you getting at?”
“If you’re done with her, I’ll take her for myself.”
J.T. gripped Roy by the collar, squeezing until the man’s jugular pressed against his knuckles. “You touch Mary and you’re dead.” Fancy stood silent at his feet, ready to attack if he gave the word.
Roy held up his hands. “Hold on, Quinn! I was thinking about Mary, what I could give her.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“I swear it.” Sweat beaded on Roy’s brow. “I could make her famous. Rich, too. That’s all. Okay?”
J.T. set Roy down, but he didn’t believe a word the man said. Lust showed in his eyes. So did greed. J.T. forgot all about buying whiskey. He forgot about leaving Denver. He had to warn Mary about Roy. The man said he had investors, but J.T. sensed a lie. Had Roy’s so-called investors given him money, or had he cheated them out of it? If he’d cheated them, what kind of payback did they want? J.T. saw a lot of self-proclaimed justice in his line of work. People paid him to administer it. Looking at Roy, he saw the familiar look of a man without shame. He matched the theater manager’s stare. “Stay away from Mary Larue.”
“Sure,” he said too easily. “She’s all yours.”
She wasn’t, but J.T. didn’t mind Roy thinking along those lines. He paced out of the opera house with Fancy Girl at his heels and rode straight to Mary’s café. There he slid out of the saddle and pounded on the door. When she didn’t answer, he peered through the window and saw the table where he’d eaten pot roast. It was already re-laid with silverware and a clean plate. It looked as if he’d never been there, as if she’d erased him from her life. Maybe she had, but no way would he leave her a second time to deal alone with someone like Sam O’Day or Roy Desmond.
J.T. figured she’d left for the Sunday supper she’d mentioned at a place called Swan’s Nest. Mary didn’t want him around her friends, but he had to warn her about Roy. Annoyed, he looked at his reflection in a dark window. Mary was right about that bath. He’d clean up, then he’d track her down. He’d do his best not to embarrass her, but he couldn’t leave until she promised to keep away from Roy Desmond.
Chapter Four
By the time Mary reached the iron gate marking Swan’s Nest, she’d pushed J.T. out of her mind. At least that’s what she told herself until the hinges creaked and she jumped. Walking up the manicured path, she looked at the stained-glass window above the covered