A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 Read Free Page B

least, I can
help you with.”
    McIntyre tilted his
head, pleased. “I’m listening.”
    “Each time the saloon
owners have come here this week to sign the paperwork, a woman has accompanied
them, signing for MLM Company. She goes by the name of Delilah Goodnight.”
    The blood in McIntyre’s
veins ran cold and he mentally kicked himself. He should’ve known closing the
Iron Horse would create an opportunity. Like nature, Delilah abhorred a vacuum.
    He’d seen the woman
convert small, grimy, hardscrabble mining towns into shameless, godless meccas
that would make Lucifer blush. Men rode for miles to experience her unique
forms of entertainment. The worst kind of men.
    So she was here to
capitalize on the Iron Horse’s demise, as well as the ready supply of lonely
miners. Then today’s business was of the utmost importance. He pulled his
pocket watch out and checked the time. Five after two. Where was this buyer for
the Broken Spoke?
    As if in answer to the
question, a man slowly pushed open Davis’s office door. He dragged his hat from
his head as McIntyre acknowledged him with a nod.
    The stranger stepped
into the room, moving confidently like a tiger in command of his environment, although
this animal wore a Colt .45. The room shrank under the gentleman’s impressive
height and a build so solid it could make a big man feel small. McIntyre was
not intimidated, but neither did he like being towered over.
    He rose to meet the man
nearly at eye-level. Shoulder-length ash-blond hair, stubbly, dimpled chin, and
intense blue eyes struck a jarringly familiar chord. “I know you,” McIntyre
whispered.
    The stranger nodded. “Yes,
we’ve met.”
    When McIntyre heard the
slightly raspy voice, the memories rushed back.
    The stranger seemed to
know it and crushed his hat to his chest. “I wondered if you’d remember me.” He
hooked a thumb into his cartridge belt. “You took everything I had a few years
back. My money, my stake, everything . . .”
    Tension thick as cigar
smoke filled the room.
    “Yes. I recall.”
McIntyre had the urge to apologize, but quelled it, and tried to read the man’s
face, which was as forthcoming as granite.
    “That card game was the
best thing that ever happened to me.”
    McIntyre tilted his
head in surprise. “That is . . .magnanimous of you. We had harsh
words . . .to say the least.”
    “You were fair. You
warned me. You told me to either quit playing or quit drinking.”
    “You did neither, and
when the cards turned, you lost your temper.”
    A glaring
understatement. The man had started a brawl in the Iron Horse still talked
about today. He had at first refrained from using the well-worn gun on his hip.
Instead, he’d thrown punches like a sledgehammer, sending men tumbling and furniture
flying. When McIntyre finally intervened, the young firecracker had drawn his
revolver with uncanny speed.
    But McIntyre had been
faster.
    Barely.
    A draw.
    McIntyre hadn’t had a
closer match before or since. The slightest drag on his holster and this
stranger could have put a bullet in him. Instead, even though the other man had
cleared leather, something had stopped them both from firing. Fingers on their
triggers, revolvers at identical heights, they’d merely stared for a moment,
then nodded and holstered their weapons. Both would live to fight another day.
    The truce had not been
born of fear . . .but of respect.
    “Well, I don’t act like
that no more.” The man extended his hand. McIntyre didn’t hesitate. They shook,
burying the hatchet. “Logan Tillane, in case you forgot.”
    McIntyre smiled
ruefully. “I did not.” He sat as Logan and Davis exchanged pleasantries.
    “So, I’ve looked the
building over,” Logan said to both men as he took the only other seat in the
small office. “It’s rough, all right.” He shifted to McIntyre. “I don’t reckon
you have a nicer one for the same money?”
    “Unfortunately, no.”
McIntyre sucked on his teeth, noting