his thumb toward the hammer.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Hawke cautioned, smiling and shaking his head slowly. “You start to come back on that hammer and I’ll blow a hole in your chest big enough to stick my fist into.”
Slowly, and with a trembling hand, Metzger put the pistol down on the table. Hawke reached over to pick it up, then handed it to Libby.
“Break it open and empty the charges,” he said.
Libby pushed the hinged barrel down and shook out all the cartridges.
“Now, perhaps we can get on with our game,” Hawke suggested, and he brought his other hand up to the top of the table. He was holding a pocketknife. With his thumb, he flipped the blade open and closed, making a sound exactly like that of a gun being cocked.
“You…you didn’t even have a gun in your hand!” Metzger sputtered angrily.
“No, I didn’t,” Hawke replied easily.
Everyone laughed.
Metzger stood up and pointed at Hawke. “One of these days, mister, you’re going to try something like that, and it’s going to blow up right in your face.”
“I suppose there is always that chance,” Hawke agreed. “But then, that’s what makes life worth livin’.”
Metzger stormed out of the saloon, chased out by the laughter of everyone present.
Hawke played a few more hands before he excused himself and stepped over to the bar. After a couple of drinks and a few flirtatious exchanges with one of the bar girls, he took a walk around town, then returned to his hotel.
One of the things he liked most about this hotel was that it had a bathing room, complete with a large bathtub, as well as a water-holding tank and a small wood-burning stove to heat the water. Hawke started the fire, then went back to his room to wait for the water to heat. Standing at the window, he looked out over the town, watching the commerce for a few minutes. He saw Libby coming into the hotel downstairs and chuckled over the way she used her obvious charms to distract the men who played cards with her. He wondered how much money she’d won.
He didn’t begrudge her her winnings, because, thanks to Metzger, he had done pretty well himself.
Leaving the window, Hawke lay down on his bed for about fifteen minutes, until he was sure the water would be warm enough for a bath. Then, taking a change of clothes, a bar of soap, and a towel, he walked down the hall to the bathing room.
A woman was just getting into the tub when he opened the door. She stood there a moment, so surprised by his unexpected appearance that she made no effort to cover herself. She was totally nude, and Hawke breathed in a quick gasp of appreciation for her beauty.
“Mr. Hawke, as you can readily see, this room is occupied,” Libby said calmly.
Hawke smiled. “So I see,” he replied. He pointed to the little stove. “I’m sorry, I had built the fire for my own bath, but I see you beat me to it.”
“Oh, then I have you to thank?” she said. “I thought that was a service of the hotel.”
“No, lighting the fire is the responsibility of the guest.”
“I see,” Libby said. “You are staring, Mr. Hawke.”
“I suppose I am. On the other hand, you have made no effort to deny me the view.”
Libby laughed, then sat down in the water, restoring a bit of modesty, if not dignity, to the situation.
“You really should have knocked, you know,” she said.
“You should have locked,” Hawke replied.
“But I did lock the door,” Libby said, pointing to a door at the rear of the room. “I came through that door. I didn’t realize this door had been unlocked.”
“No harm done,” Hawke said. “I’ll wait until you are finished.”
“That’s very…decent…of you,” Libby said.
Hawke opened his eyes. Something had awakened him, and he lay very still. The doorknob turned and he was up, reaching for the gun that lay on a table by his bed. He moved as quietly as a cat, stepping to the side of the door and cocking his Colt .44. Nearly naked, he felt the night air on his skin. His senses were alert, and his body was alive with readiness.
He could hear someone breathing on the other side of the door. A thin shaft of hall light shone underneath. He took a deep breath, smelled lilacs, then smiled. He had smelled this same perfume earlier.
“Libby?” he called.
“Are you awake?” the visitor replied.
Like the scent, the voice belonged to Libby. It was low and husky, with just a hint of rawness to it.
Hawke eased the hammer down on the pistol, then opened the door to let a wide bar of light spill into the room. Libby was standing in the doorway, the hall lantern backlighting the thin cotton robe she wore. He could see her body in shadow behind the cloth.
“Come on in,” Hawke invited, moving back to let her step inside. He closed the door and crossed over to light the lantern on his table. A bubble of light illuminated the room.
“Oh, my. You aren’t wearing much, are you?” Libby said.
“Would you prefer that I get dressed?”
“Why bother?” Libby asked. “You’ll just have to get undressed again.” Crossing over to him, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her for a kiss. When she pulled her lips away from his, the very action of pulling her head back pressed her pelvis more tightly against his groin. His reaction was instantaneous.
“I just came to tell you good-bye,” she said. “Jay has gotten everything together for our trip up to the Sweetwater Mountains, so we are leaving tomorrow.”
She stepped back from him, then opened her robe and let it fall from her shoulders. As he had already surmised, she was nude underneath, and her body shined golden in the soft light from the table lantern. “I thought I would give you another look, just in case you forgot everything you saw this afternoon.”
“I haven’t forgotten a thing,” Hawke said. “But I would enjoy another look.”
They moved over to the iron-stead bed. The covers were already turned back, and the springs squealed in protest as Libby lay down.
“As you can see, the bed squeaks,” Hawke said.
“Good,” Libby said. She moved up and down, making the springs squeak more loudly. “You played the piano for me on the train. Now I’ll play a concert for you.”
Chapter 13
METZGER WAS BROKE, HAVING LOST ALL HIS money in the card game the other night. He told himself that if he could just raise a stake—not a large stake, just enough to get the bare necessities—he would go up to the Sweetwater Mountains and look for gold like everyone else was doing.
But he couldn’t do that without a stake.
He stole four dollars from the poor box at the church, figuring that since he was poor, it was rightly his anyway.
Four dollars got him some bacon and beans, and a couple of drinks, but it wasn’t enough to outfit him for gold hunting.
He was in the Royal Flush saloon having his supper when Luke Rawlings came in. Luke was wearing a new suit and hat, and everyone rushed over to talk to him about his gold find.
“How much have you pulled out, Luke?” someone asked.
“I don’t rightly know how much,” Luke said, hooking his thumbs under his armpits. “But as you can see, I’m all decked out in new duds. If I was you boys, I’d be up there lookin’ for gold right now.”
“I’m goin’ up there first thing tomorrow,” one cowboy said.
“What about your job out at Lazy Q?” someone asked the cowboy.
“Ah, to hell with that job,” the cowboy said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Most of the hands has done quit anyway.”
