Chapter 30
Consult the local records, and they’ll all tell you the same things about the town of Renas.
She’s small. Barely more than fifty people.
She’s got a mayor. A man named Rick.
And she’s got a sheriff. A man named Stuart.
And she’s quiet as a church mouse.
Consult the local citizens, and they’ll also all tell you the same things about the town of Renas. The first being that Dolly is the town of Renas. That she is the mayor and the sheriff. That she is anything but quiet. And that the same can be said for her place.
Purposefully situated just outside the town lines, Dolly’s place has more people coming through it on a daily basis than Renas does. All with various intentions and aims, most of which they prefer to keep to themselves. Which is fine, as long as they also keep to the rules.
“The rules?” Aiden asks as we walk inside, both of us following behind Dolly until she’s immediately pulled into some conversation or other and we’re left to our own whims. “And what might those be?”
“Generally?” I smile, catching the tune being played and the first flashes of color up on the stage. “Mind your business and mind your manners.”
“Right,” he mutters next to me, his brown eyes growing a bit bigger than usual as he takes in the room, and I try to see it too like it’s my first time.
The dark wood walls and floors, the long mahogany bar with the rows and rows of bottles that line the mirror on the wall behind it, the dozen or so packed poker tables, the women dancing in their flying skirts on the stage, the musicians playing the quick-paced music out in front, and more than one couple who didn’t quite make it upstairs quick enough. “Right.”
“Are you?” I ask him, watching his gaze catch and linger on a smitten pair on the stairs, on a woman in a dark green dress who has very little of her red rouge left on her mouth. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can go. It’s no—”
“Christ, you really think I’m that…what was the word you used? Repressed?” He turns his head toward me and rolls his eyes, though the tips of his ears have also gone pink, a color I find incredibly endearing. “Just wasn’t imagining Dolly’s bar to be so…”
“Diverting?” I offer, looking back toward the couple just in time to see them take off laughing up the stairs. “There are rooms on the second floor,” I inform him. “Should the need arise.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing my direction a few times before he clears his throat and studies the room again. “Shouldn’t be here. You heard what Dolly said yesterday. Talk about what happened in Soldana has already made it out this way.”
“Not only talk,” I murmur, immediately making his eyebrows shoot up beneath his hat.
“Meaning?”
“There’s posters in town,” I admit. “I was sort of hoping we might pass one or two on the way here. Would be a nice keep…” I trail off when I realize he’s now staring at me like he might grab me by the shirt again. Not that I would mind. “Maybe later.”
“There are posters?” Aiden snarls, voice low. “And you’re only telling me this now?”
“Well, you didn’t really give me the option of telling you earlier,” I remind him.
“So, yes, I’m telling you now.” I glance toward a few of the tables near us and the eyes that are starting to drift our way.
“Although, if you really are worried about us being spotted, perhaps we should stop drawing so much attention to ourselves.”
“What we should do is leave.” His jaw clenches, his teeth grinding together. “Fuck’s sake, you make me fucking crazy, you know that?”
“No one here is going to say a thing, even if they do recognize us,” I explain, trying to get him to meet my eyes. “It’s as I said. Here, you mind your business. Or else. No one is going to want to risk—”
“Yeah, yeah, can’t spend money if you’re six feet under,” he mutters, letting me know he’s already had this conversation with Dolly. “Both of you are putting an awful lot of trust in other people, you know that? And you’re asking me to do the same.”
“I’m not asking you to trust them,” I start to argue, waving a hand in the general direction of the room. “I’m asking you to trust—”
He shakes his head before I can finish. “You do what you want. But if you get yourself strung up again, don’t be expecting me to cut you loose. Not this time. Our agreement isn’t an excuse for you to be fuckin’ careless.”
With that he turns, the conversation apparently closed.
I go after him before I can stop myself, though draw up short when he heads for one of the only empty seats at the bar instead of for the door.
Without question, it’s the better of the two outcomes, even if it ends with his back to me. One step forward…
I sigh, not sure now why I thought this would help.
It does for me. The noise, the excitement, the people—being in a lively place like this always makes me feel a bit more alive, too. But clearly it’s not the same for him.
I should’ve anticipated. He hadn’t been happy at the saloon in Soldana. He hadn’t stayed at the hotel. He hadn’t wanted to be around all morning. Time and time again, he has preferred to keep to himself, but the thing is…I suspect that doesn’t make him happy either.
Riding seems to be something he enjoys. Something I enjoy, too, and I’d be more than willing to go with him even when there’s no destination. If he’d let me…
“You plannin’ on playing or not?”
I turn my head to find the man who spoke, currently sitting at the table closest to me and eyeing me with interest. I end up doing the same to him and the man beside him.
“Why?” I ask, giving him a friendly smile. “That an invitation?”
The man scoffs. “It’s an invitation to either sit down or keep moving. You’re hangin’ around. And it’s distracting.”
“My utmost apologies,” I say, taking a quick look around the table before putting all my focus back on him. “What’s your limit?”
He gives me a number that barely registers. Because the truth is, I’ve already determined he doesn’t have one, though I’d never be able to explain how. I just know. I can feel it, and I wonder if it’s a matter of intuition or simply repetition. Of simply too much time spent with too many like him.
“I’ll play,” I tell him, pulling out the remaining empty chair at the table and sitting. “Name’s Cypress.”
He smirks, giving the dealer a nod to bring me in and letting the other few men at the table introduce themselves before he says, “I’m Tom. This is John.” He tilts his head at the man next to him. “You passin’ through?”
I nod. “Yourself?”
He shrugs, picking up the cards that have been slid in front of him.
“We were planning to head out after this game, but…may have found something to keep us here a while longer.” He smiles with far too many teeth before casting a look at the dancers who have recently come off stage, staying on one who’s now leaning against the bar, chin resting on her palm while she gazes adoringly at the woman pouring drinks on the other side.
And I know. I always know.