his stomach. He turned to look around the smoke-filled room. “I’ve always wanted to own a saloon. I guess if I was to set up my own establishment, that might cause you some concern.”
L. B. narrowed her eyes at him. “So you’re offering me protection from you, or some other enterprising soul, from opening another saloon in this town?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
L. B. had seen his kind before, men who wanted what other people had worked for. In another town she’d let a man like Wallace run her off. It wasn’t going to happen again. Oh, Wallace concerned her, particularly since he had the sheriff doing his bidding for him, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. She looked him in the eye. “I say the more, the merrier. Another business will just make my gals work harder to keep the clientele happy.”
“I’ll let you think about it.” He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “You know the sheriff and I have a good arrangement. I’m sure I could convince him to make sure no one caused you problems if I was to be part owner. Things are changing around here. Folks who don’t change with them, well, I guess they’ll just be flat out of luck.” With that said, he threw some coins on the bar and left.
L. B. watched him walk away, considering what he said and what he didn’t say.
Sam moved to stand in front of her. “Want another one?”
“Yeah.” She turned her attention on Sam. “Did you hear that?”
Sam had worked with L. B. for a long time and they were good friends. He was loyal, and L. B. trusted him with her life, as he did her. They had their own private arrangement; no one knew Sam was her silent partner, sharing in the handsome profits from the business. “I heard.” He put another glass on the bar and poured one for himself.
“What do you think he’s up to?”
“That’s not hard to figure out. He wants to own the whole town, and he won’t be happy until he has it.”
“We’ve seen his ilk before,” she reminded him.
“Too many times to suit me. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. Men like him don’t even fear God Almighty.” He drank his whiskey and gazed into her eyes. “Why don’t we just retire and get out of here? We both have plenty of money, and we’re getting old. Maybe we could go to Alaska, see something new, and try our hand at mining.” Sam had suggested the same thing several times before, but for reasons he didn’t understand, L. B. wasn’t ready to leave.
L. B. chuckled. “I think I’ve heard that a time or two out of you.”
“Maybe it’s time you gave it serious consideration,” he told her in a solemn tone.
Getting no response, he shook his head and smacked his glass on the bar with a thud before he moved away to serve a customer.
She couldn’t ignore Sam’s words; he had wanted to move on for a long time. There was no denying he was right—they were getting old. Maybe they should take off for Alaska before time got the best of them. She enjoyed Sam’s company, more than any other man she’d ever met, and he was more than a friend to her. She loved him in her own way, but always figured if they had become more involved it would have ruined their friendship. Before she’d passed her prime, he’d hinted that he wanted more, yet he never pushed her. She hated to think that one of these days he would just walk out of her life and go to Alaska without her. What was holding her back? She’d never be able to spend all the money she’d saved up. Why hang around? She knew the answer to that. She’d stayed in the same place for so long for one reason. It was something she’d never told anyone, not even Sam. But then, maybe Sam was right. Now might be the time to move on.
Chapter Eight
Under Bartholomew’s direction, Colt carried Victoria to what he assumed was Chet’s bedroom, and gently placed her on the bed. He said a few choice words under his breath, not because she had fainted, but for some inexplicable
L. B. narrowed her eyes at him. “So you’re offering me protection from you, or some other enterprising soul, from opening another saloon in this town?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
L. B. had seen his kind before, men who wanted what other people had worked for. In another town she’d let a man like Wallace run her off. It wasn’t going to happen again. Oh, Wallace concerned her, particularly since he had the sheriff doing his bidding for him, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. She looked him in the eye. “I say the more, the merrier. Another business will just make my gals work harder to keep the clientele happy.”
“I’ll let you think about it.” He leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “You know the sheriff and I have a good arrangement. I’m sure I could convince him to make sure no one caused you problems if I was to be part owner. Things are changing around here. Folks who don’t change with them, well, I guess they’ll just be flat out of luck.” With that said, he threw some coins on the bar and left.
L. B. watched him walk away, considering what he said and what he didn’t say.
Sam moved to stand in front of her. “Want another one?”
“Yeah.” She turned her attention on Sam. “Did you hear that?”
Sam had worked with L. B. for a long time and they were good friends. He was loyal, and L. B. trusted him with her life, as he did her. They had their own private arrangement; no one knew Sam was her silent partner, sharing in the handsome profits from the business. “I heard.” He put another glass on the bar and poured one for himself.
“What do you think he’s up to?”
“That’s not hard to figure out. He wants to own the whole town, and he won’t be happy until he has it.”
“We’ve seen his ilk before,” she reminded him.
“Too many times to suit me. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. Men like him don’t even fear God Almighty.” He drank his whiskey and gazed into her eyes. “Why don’t we just retire and get out of here? We both have plenty of money, and we’re getting old. Maybe we could go to Alaska, see something new, and try our hand at mining.” Sam had suggested the same thing several times before, but for reasons he didn’t understand, L. B. wasn’t ready to leave.
L. B. chuckled. “I think I’ve heard that a time or two out of you.”
“Maybe it’s time you gave it serious consideration,” he told her in a solemn tone.
Getting no response, he shook his head and smacked his glass on the bar with a thud before he moved away to serve a customer.
She couldn’t ignore Sam’s words; he had wanted to move on for a long time. There was no denying he was right—they were getting old. Maybe they should take off for Alaska before time got the best of them. She enjoyed Sam’s company, more than any other man she’d ever met, and he was more than a friend to her. She loved him in her own way, but always figured if they had become more involved it would have ruined their friendship. Before she’d passed her prime, he’d hinted that he wanted more, yet he never pushed her. She hated to think that one of these days he would just walk out of her life and go to Alaska without her. What was holding her back? She’d never be able to spend all the money she’d saved up. Why hang around? She knew the answer to that. She’d stayed in the same place for so long for one reason. It was something she’d never told anyone, not even Sam. But then, maybe Sam was right. Now might be the time to move on.
Chapter Eight
Under Bartholomew’s direction, Colt carried Victoria to what he assumed was Chet’s bedroom, and gently placed her on the bed. He said a few choice words under his breath, not because she had fainted, but for some inexplicable
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