They paused in conversation as bartender Hub brought her a drink. “Your Mule Skinner, madam.”
Whiskey and blackberry liqueur.
“Thank you, Mr. Wainwright,” she said.
He disappeared.
York asked her, “What are you going to do with all those rooms upstairs?”
She sipped her drink, shrugged with her eyebrows. “I’m going to live in them, after some fix-up and new furnishings. I’ll have an office up there, too. Little rathole downstairs doesn’t suit me. I know you have a reputation as a... a...”
“Prude? Prig?”
She frowned, shook her head. “No. I know that’s not the case. My sister wrote me letters. She wrote me one shortly before she passed that was very... complimentary about you. Reading between the lines, I gathered... well, that’s neither here nor there.”
He shifted in his chair. “Isn’t it? I was sheriff here for six months. I didn’t try to shoo the soiled doves from their cages during that time. Why do you assume I would now?”
The dark eyes widened. “Because, as you say, you’re still here. Before, you were just holding down the office till the town found somebody to fill it, and when they didn’t, you went out and got poor Ben Wade. Now that you’re staying—”
“You’ve been misinformed. I’m only staying until this bank robbery is cleared up.”
Her smile seemed faintly mocking. “You killed the robbers and yet here you sit. No, I have a feeling you may be here awhile longer. Maybe a lot longer. I’m aware of Miss Willa Cullen, and how you two... well. Again. Neither here nor there.”
He frowned at her. “Your sister wrote you about that, did she?”
“She did. But I have eyes. I’ve only been here two weeks, but I have eyes.” She drew in breath and let it out, then sat forward slightly. “Listen, Sheriff... Caleb... I want to thank you. You deserve my thanks.”
“Why is that?”
She waved a hand around her. “You allowed the Victory to stay open until everything was settled and I was able to move to Trinidad. To decide to move to Trinidad, I should say.”
“You might have just sold the place.”
“The legalities took a while. But I liked having this opportunity. My sister fared well here.”
“Right up to when she was killed.”
That blunt remark didn’t faze her. “Very gallant of you, to try to dissuade me from this life. But as I think, I hope, I’ve made clear — the Victory will be more respectable under my sway. Lola had a partner in that other sheriff, the crooked one — Harry Gauge? She was no brothel madam. He made her one.”
“May I ask what you were doing, Miss Filley, before you took on your sister’s business?”
“It’s Rita. By ‘doing,’ you mean — for a living? I’ve been one of those dance-hall girls we were discussing — the ones who make a man feel good without going upstairs. I’m not new to this kind of place.”
He was looking her over, realizing that behind the lip rouge and dance-hall gown, someone young was on view. “How old are you, anyway?”
“You would ask a female such a question? So much for gallantry, Caleb. I am twenty-four.”
Still sizing her up, he said, “What kind of name is Filley? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“It’s Irish. But my mother was Mexican. I grew up this side of the border. My papa was a blacksmith — not a family business either Sis or I could go into. When he died, the blacksmith shop went to Lola and she sold it. Came here and opened this palace.”
He nodded. “It is something of a palace. I think you could do well here, even without the doves. Probably even better. Times are changing.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“This town will grow.”
“Is that why you’re staying on, Caleb?”
“I’m not staying on. Told you that.”
“We’ll see. So. Do we know each other better now?”
“I think so. But we do have more to discuss, if you’re of a mind.”
“Please.”
“What’s your relationship with Zachary Gauge?”
She frowned, shook her head. “I have no... relationship with him. Business or otherwise. I’ve never met the man. I understand he’s in town. Like you, I’m sure he’ll get around to looking me up and sitting me down.”
York’s gaze turned narrow-eyed. “But I gather he signed his interest in this saloon over to you.”
“He did.”
“And you never met him?”
An elaborate shrug. “It was done through attorneys. All by wire and mail. He was in New York. I was in Houston. It took a while, but he signed everything over to me.”
“For nothing?”
“For one dollar.” She smiled. “That was something the lawyers insisted on.”
“Why would he do that?”
The big eyes grew wide again. “Maybe you should sit him down and ask him?”
But York pressed: “Zachary didn’t say? I know you never met him, Rita, but in a letter... or through his attorney...?”
She gestured with open hands. “Caleb, I gathered he didn’t want to have any part of this place. Of a business like this. My feeling is he wanted to put a distance between himself and that black-sheep cousin of his. From what I hear, along those lines, he made a good impression at the Grange the other night.”
“He did.”
She shrugged, smiled. “Well, that explains it. You can’t be an upstanding citizen and run a saloon with an upstairs brothel. The womenfolk and the preachers just won’t have it.”
York thought about that. It made sense.
He hadn’t yet got to the real reason, or anyway the main one, that he’d come tonight. Much of his afternoon had gone to sending out another raft of telegrams, this time asking the sheriffs all around the territory to let him know if any of Harry Gauge’s old gang showed up in their vicinity.
Then he said, “I like you, Rita.”
“This is so sudden.”
He flashed a grin. “What I mean to say is... you impress me as someone I might be able to trust.”
Her eyebrows went up. “I’ve heard more ringing endorsements.” Then down. “What do you have in mind, Caleb?”
He leaned in. “You’re new here, but your people on staff aren’t — the bartenders, the girls, your gambling crew... I need to know when any of Harry Gauge’s bunch come in here.”
She mulled it momentarily, then shrugged and said, “I guess I could do that. But, as you say, I wouldn’t recognize them.”
“Well, you might. Your sister’s partner brought in outlaws and gunhands and set them up as cowboys and deputies, when it’s easy to see they aren’t. Some have flown the coop. But others are still around.”
She was nodding. “All right. I’ll try. See what I can do.”
He gave her a tight smile. “Good. The three bank robbers, who have lately been appearing in the undertaker’s window...”
“I saw their show. They stink.”
That loosened up his smile. “Be that as it may, they were all former Gauge cronies. And if the thieves had accomplices...”
“It would be former Gauge men.” Nodding again. “I follow.”
He held her eyes. “Somebody has the money that Bill Johnson and his buddies hauled out of First Bank. I want to find it. I want to give it back to the town.”
She had a different kind of smile going now. Might call it wistful. “You are a gent, Caleb York. No wonder they write stories about you.” She raised her glass. “To Caleb York. First legend I ever shared a table with.”