Page 1 of West Wind

CHAPTER ONE

Brayton, Colorado, 1876

Light spilled onto the boardwalk just ahead; the sounds of merriment grew closer with each step. As he moved toward the only bright spot in the dark night, laughter called to him. The Silver Palace, Oscar Beddingfield’s fine saloon and gaming house, had always been Brayton’s one redeeming feature. It was one of Shelley’s favorite places to spend a day or two.

Oscar’s prices were fair, and he never watered the tequila. A few years ago he’d added his “girls,” whom he named after colors and dressed accordingly. The women were clean, fun, and pretty. As far as Shelley knew Oscar employed only three: Cherry Red, Bonnie Blue, and Summer Green.

He grinned as he entered the circle of saloon light that spread over the boardwalk; stopped for a moment to listen to the murmur of voices and the enticing ring of bottles touching empty glasses. Cherry Red laughed, a harsh, forced caw. She’d be glad to see him, and so would Oscar. Shelley always managed to spend a bundle when he stayed a few days in Brayton. Between Cherry and the tequila Oscar always kept in stock, he always left the Silver Palace a poorer man. But a happier one.

Shelley studied the room over the top of the batwing doors. The bartender poured drinks while Oscar polished the long bar. The Silver Palace had come a long way in the eleven years since Oscar had founded the ramshackle saloon. There was a gaming room in the back, a small stage in the main area, and several comfortably furnished rooms upstairs which customers paid dearly to visit. Dollar whores were available down the street, but Oscar’s girls were special.

The front room was packed, more crowded than he’d ever seen it. His grin faded. Crowds made him nervous, just a bit. Cherry was busy, sitting in a bearded man’s lap and whispering into his ear as she swung one leg in a calculated move to keep the customers’ attentions on her. Her head turned just enough to survey the room and she saw him standing there, waiting.

“Shelley!” she screamed. Half the room turned to watch as Cherry left the man’s lap and ran across the room. Shelley pushed his way through the swinging doors. He caught her when she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and clasping her hands behind his neck.

“Hello, darlin’,” he drawled. “I’d a been here sooner if I’d known I had a greetin’ like this waitin’ for me.”

She planted an ardent kiss on his lips. “It’s been ages since you were here. Where have you been? Don’t you like me anymore?” She pouted, her full, painted lower lip trembling slightly.

“Of course I like you.”

He lowered Cherry to her feet and smoothed her red silk dress. The skirt ended just above her knees; she swung one black-stockinged leg seductively, enticing every man in the room. The fair, blue-eyed blonde was a favorite at the Silver Palace. It was no coincidence that Summer was a redhead and Bonnie had light brown hair. Oscar had seen to that. Variety.

Shelley spun the popular girl around and patted her on the bottom, sending her back to the miner she’d deserted. “I’ll see you later.” He ran a hand over his bearded jaw when she turned back to him, pouting. “After I have a drink, a shave, and a bath.”

“I can take care of all that for you,” she offered, but he turned away from her and sauntered to the bar, grinning.

Oscar placed a bottle of tequila on the polished wooden surface. “What have you been up to?” he asked as he poured the pale amber liquid into a heavy shot glass. Though he employed a bartender, who poured drinks for an impatient group of miners farther down the long bar, Oscar always insisted on serving Shelley himself.

Shelley leaned into the bar and tossed back the tequila. He closed his eyes and savored the first taste. The first of many. “Same old thing. Just turned in Willie Erskine. Slippery fella. Led me a merry chase through half the Rocky Mountain Range.”

“But you caught him, of course,” Oscar prodded.

Shelley nodded and poured the next shot himself.

“Is he at the sheriff’s office here in Brayton?”

“That’s where I left him.” He was already tired of the subject. Yes, that was where he’d left Willie Erskine. His body, anyway. After all, the poster said dead or alive, and Willie had refused to be taken alive.

Oscar smiled; Shelley could see the man’s mind at work. Willie Erskine had been worth five hundred dollars.

“I heard you tell Cherry you wanted a bath and a shave. Barber shop’s closed. Why don’t you let me have the girls fix you a bath upstairs? If you don’t want to wait until morning, Cherry can shave your beard for ya.”

Shelley grinned and poured another shot. “I might take you up on that offer of a bath later on, but I’ll be damned if any woman is gonna take a razor to my face. I can shave myself, thank you.”

He leaned on the bar and took a deep breath. The Silver Palace was one of several saloons that were like home to him. He loved the smell of cigar smoke, cheap perfume, and the oil Oscar used to shine the bar.

“What’s new around here? Any luck replacing Iris?”

The question caused Oscar to lose his smile. “Ungrateful girl. I still can’t believe she ran off with that sodbuster.”

Iris White, dark-haired, tall, and undeniably beautiful, had been one of the Silver Palace’s most popular girls. She’d surprised everyone by eloping with a widowed farmer who had four young children.

“But you haven’t seen my newest attraction.” His smile returned.

“A new woman?” Shelley raised his eyebrows.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders. “Not yet. At least, not like you think. I’ve found me a singer.”