Winstead hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets, making a visible effort to salvage some of his genteel charm. As you well know, Im not a stingy man. If you cooperate, you can also expect the usual reward of five hundred dollars.
One thousand, Billy replied without batting an eyelash. Five hundred in advance.
Winstead hesitated only a heartbeat before offering his hand. When Billy didnt even deign to glance at it, the marshal drew a bloated canvas pouch from the satchel. Youll receive a signed writ of amnesty for you and your brothers only after the job is done to my satisfaction.
Billy tossed the pouch to a stunned Drew.
The marshal fastened the satchel, his crisp motions betraying his eagerness to cleanse himself of the taint of his own dirty dealings. Black Bart was last seen in the vicinity of Eulalie. One of my deputies has determined that his gang may have a hideout in the hills near there. Ive taken the liberty of arranging to have another shipment of treasury gold pass through that area on Friday morning. The gold will make a fortuitous overnight stop at the Eulalie First National Bank. Ive heard the accommodations in the vault there are quite lovely.
Drew paled, his plans for a peaceful retirement evaporating into thin air like the smoke from a Comanche peace pipe. Hell, Winstead, if youve already leaked that information, youll have every outlaw from Dodge City to San Francisco crawling over the Territory.
Perhaps. But Mr. Darling here is only responsible for apprehending one of them. He turned his gaze on Billy. Ive made sure that both the bank employees and the local law will be expecting you. I would so hate for you to catch a bullet in the back for your trouble.
Billy frowned. If youve already got the trap set, then why do you need the woman?
As I told you beforeas insurance. I believe Mr. Fine will think twice about opening fire or making a run for it if he walks into that bank and comes face-to-face with his devoted mistress.
Mistress. Billy could hold four aces and the king of spades in his hand without betraying so much as a gleeful twitch of his lips, but there was something about that word that made him flinch.
A ghost of a smile flickered across the marshals face. I should warn you that our Black Bart has demonstrated quite a flair for the dramatic. No blowing up the safe in the dark of night for him. He prefers to thunder in at high noon with fire in his eyes and guns blazing. Winstead leaned closer, challenge glittering in his eyes. So, Mr. Darling will you be there when he does?
Billy crumpled the sketch of Bartholomew Fine in his fist without realizing it. Oh, Ill be there. You can count on it.
When Winstead had taken his precious satchel and gone, Drew blew out a low, shaky whistle. Well, William, my lad, I guess I can go tear up that Wanted notice that bears such an unflattering likeness to you.
I wouldnt be too hasty about that.
Drew frowned, more disturbed by his friends acceptance of such an unsavory job than he cared to let on. But didnt you just agree to
Did I? Billy blinked at him, his eyes as artless as a childs. I never took Winsteads hand. I only took his money.
Drew cocked his head to the side, growing more confused by the second.
Billy shrugged. Ive been accused of selling myself to the highest bidder. Maybe its time I started doing just that.
But what could be worth more to you than your life, one thousand dollars, and a badge?
Billy held the gleaming star up to the light, the expression in his narrowed eyes oddly unsettling. That, sheriff, is just what I intend to find out.
CHAPTER NINE
The woman who called herself Esmerelda Fine slept in a puddle of buttery dawn sunlight. Billy gently eased the door of her hotel room shut behind him, her unexpected vulnerability softening the grim set of his lips. He had expected to find the uncompromising Miss Fine sleeping flat on her back, her hands folded neatly over her chest as if the undertaker had just arranged them.
Instead, she sprawled on her stomach, one leg half-cocked to her waist, her rump in the air. A checkered quilt lay in a defeated heap on the floor, vanquished in what appeared to be a violent battle of wills. The awkward angle of her leg caused her gown to ride high on her thighs and hug her bottom like a pair of loving hands.
Billy studied the alluring mound with the practiced eye of a man whod spent the past three months of his life living in a brothel. Miss Fine might wear a corset and bustle because it was the current fashion, but she certainly had no need of the wire and horsehair contraptions to cinch in her waist or enhance the curves nature had given her.
She rolled to her back, flinging out one arm as if in supplication. Her hair spilled over the pillow like cinnamon sugar and an endearing little porcine snuffle escaped her delicate nostrils. Fascinated, Billy drifted toward the bed. Her lack of restraint in sleep was at direct odds with the stilted demeanor she wore like a starched veil when awake. Which only deepened his suspicion that it might be nothing more than a cunning disguise.
He scowled and fingered his swollen lip. Until his midnight encounter with Winstead, hed had every intention of meeting her for breakfast in the hotel restaurant, pressing fifty dollars into her gloved hand, and putting her on the first stagecoach heading east. With or without her consent.
But Winsteads words had changed all that. He never could abide a mystery, and he had every intention of finding out just who wanted Bartholomew Fine the most and why.
Billy allowed his gaze to drift downward, lingering at the softness of her breasts and belly. He wondered what Winstead would have thought had his spy lingered long enough to learn of their shocking bargain. Esmerelda had agreed to his proposition with unsettling ease. Perhaps she made it a habit to offer that tender young body of hers to strangers in exchange for her brothers life.
Or her lovers life.
He searched her face, forcing himself to be ruthless. He still couldnt find any trace of the impish outlaw who called himself Black Bart. Sleep had heightened her color, reducing her freckles to a sprinkle of desert sand across the bridge of her nose. Her lashes curled against her cheeks like a whittlers mahogany shavings. Whatever her relationship to the outlaw, Billy couldnt afford to forget that her devotion to the man had nearly cost him his life.
As he leaned over her, his nerves sang to life as they always did at the approach of danger. His keenly honed instincts had kept him alive through many an encounter that should have proven deadly. Theyd allowed him to dodge Yankee bullets and Comanche arrows and had prodded him to take a step to the right instead of the left in the instant before Juan Estes had pulled the trigger of his Remington revolver and shot him in the back. The bullet had grazed his ribs, leaving his heart untouched.
He was afraid he might not be so lucky this time.
He sank down on the bed, resting a hand on each side of the feather pillow. He couldnt remember the last time hed woken up next to a woman without stale whiskey on her breath. Esmerelda smelled warm and sweet, like Miss Patchess fur on a chilly winter night. It was all he could do not to bury his face in the silken tangle of her hair. Hed assured her that the Darling men preferred their women conscious, but in her case, he just might be willing to make an exception.
When Esmerelda opened her eyes to find Billy Darling looming over her, her first thought was that shed sold her soul to the devil and hed wasted no time in coming to collect. Billys thick golden lashes gave his eyes an angelic cast, but the cynical curl of his lips reminded her that he was not one of Gods favored, but one of his fallen. She obliged him by letting out a shriek of the damned.