Just in the past week, working with the county sheriff, Tilghman had caught three former cowhands turned horse thieves. Given different circumstances, or bolder spirits, they could have easily robbed a bank. One crime led to another, and in the end, any man who rode the owlhoot was capable of killing to avoid a stretch in prison. The more he thought about it, the more Tilghman realized that it wasn’t altogether his word to Heck Thomas that kept him on the job. Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he’d grudgingly come to accept what Neal Brown and other friends had told him for many years. He had the calling to be a lawman.
Stratton’s voice intruded on his woolgathing. “Zoe tells me you’ve been married before.”
“Yeah, I was,” Tilghman said without inflection. “My wife died last year. Influenza.”
“Sorry to hear it.” Stratton stared at him, puffing on his pipe. “You looking to get married again?”
Tilghman shrugged it off. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“High time, then,” Stratton said in a hard voice. “A man your age ought not to toy with the affections of a young girl.”
“A man my age?”
“Zoe tells me you’re thirty-six. She’s barely twenty, and the way I figure, that’s a sight of difference. Aren’t you a little old for her?”
Tilghman saw where the argument lay now. By all appearances, he and Stratton were separated in age by not more than ten years. Stratton clearly thought of him as an older man, someone in his own generation. Far too old for his daughter.
“I’m younger than I look,” Tilghman said in an offhand manner. “And I don’t have any wrong intentions toward Zoe. You can rest easy on that score.”
“Never said otherwise,” Stratton muttered. “What I’m saying is, she hasn’t so much as looked at another man since you came on the scene. Don’t you think she deserves a man her own age?”
“I think that’s for Zoe to decide. She’s free to see whoever she wants.”
“Not as long as you’re around,” Stratton said harshly. “She’s got stardust in her eyes. Any fool can see that.”
“Look, I’m not trying—”
“Good evening.” Zoe suddenly swept through the entrance to the parlor. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No, no,” Stratton said hurriedly. He rose, moving to the fireplace, and knocked the dottle from his pipe. “We were just debating the merits of racehorses versus saddle stock.”
She looked at Tilghman. “Believe it or not,” she said brightly, “I’m finally ready. Shall we go?”
“You bet.” Tilghman walked to the door, gathering his hat and greatcoat. “Nice talking with you, Amos.”
“You too, Bill,” Stratton said amiably. “We’ll have to do it again.”
Zoe kissed her father good night while Tilghman shrugged into his coat. He helped her into a long cape with a fur-trimmed hood and they went through the door. Outside, he got her settled in the backboard and draped a woolen blanket over her lap for added warmth. Then he unhitched the horses and climbed into the driver’s seat. He popped the reins.
“Well now,” he said, glancing at her. “You’re looking mighty pretty tonight.”
She sniffed. “Don’t try to pretty-please me, Bill Tilghman. What were you and father talking about?”
“Like he told you—”
“Honestly! You must think I’m a little scatterbrain. I want to know what you were arguing about—right now!”
Tilghman was tempted to kiss her. She was full of spirit and spunk, and he could imagine her eyes flashing green in the dark night. There was a vibrancy about her so compelling that he felt captivated all over again. He chuckled softly.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes, I do! And with no soft-soap, Mr. Tilghman.”
“You won’t tell him I told, will you?”
“Cross my heart,” she said pertly. “So what did he say?”
“Well, in a nutshell—” Tilghman watched her out of the corner of his eye. “Your pa thinks I’m too old for you.”
“Does he indeed?” she said in a exasperated tone. “And what did you say?”
“I told him I’m younger than I look.”
“Of course you are!”
Tilghman suppressed a smile. “And that I have no improper intentions toward you.”
“You didn’t!” Her eyes danced with merriment. “You actually said that to him?”
“Seemed like the right thing at the time. What with you being so young and innocent, and all.”
“Oh, fudge!” She dug him in the ribs with her elbow. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
“Who, me?” Tilghman said with mock concern. “You think I’m one to step out of line?”
“Nooo,” she said slowly. “But sometimes I wish you’d try—just a little.”
“I’ll be switched. I think you mean that.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean. You should know that by now.”
“In that case,” Tilghman prompted her, “what are you going to tell your pa?”
“I’m going to tell him to mind his own business. I’ll decide who’s too old and who isn’t.”
“So where does that leave me?”
“Just exactly where you belong.”
She scooted closer, throwing the blanket over his lap as well. She put her arm through his, hugging him, and nestled her head against his shoulder. Then, closer still, she uttered a low, throaty laugh.
“Doesn’t that feel about right?”
Tilghman smiled. “I think it’s Christmas already.”
The cold forgotten, they drove toward town.
CHAPTER 10
The corner of Harrison and Second was the liveliest spot in Guthrie. Chambers for the territorial legislature occupied the upper story of the International Building, which was located on the southeast corner. Across the street was the Palace Hotel, where the politicians made their home away from home when the legislature was in session.
The Reaves Brothers Casino, fanciest sporting emporium in the territory, stood three stories high on the northwest corner. Directly opposite was the Blue Bell Saloon, a most democratic bucket of gore catering to anyone with the price of a drink. A hangout for
