She wanted to berate him for his language, but it wasn't the time nor the place. "I'm sorry, sir. Did I scare you?" She emphasized the sir to let him know he wasn't supposed to know her though she thought the dress and absence of her wedding ring had made it clear enough.
"You didn't scare me, baby," called one of the men from another table. "Why don't you come have a drink with me?"
She ignored the comment and Kid took the hint she'd given him to act like he didn't know her. "I think I'd like to have that drink."
"I figured you might. Pick out a table and I'll bring the drinks."
His card buddies far from upset, hooped and hollered and made general monkeys out of themselves as way of showing their congratulations. Except one, a small-framed, dark-haired man, who looked as if he were disappointed by Kid's choice of a woman over cards.
While Kid sought out the furthest table, Ruth went up to the bar.
"2 sarsaparillas, please," she said to Rufus, who was now working behind the bar.
"What do you think this is, some kind of dandified, sissified parlor? We only serve the hard stuff." He gave her 2 shot glasses filled with amber-colored liquid.
"You know," she whispered so no one else could hear. "I don't drink and I don't plan to start now."
Rufus whispered right back. "I'll let you in on a little secret. None of my girls do. It's just cold tea. You think they're much good to me soused? My prime source of income is the whiskey they sell to customers. And since he's working for me at the moment, his is nothing but cold tea too."
Ruth took note of the 2 saloon girls she hadn't met yet as she walked over to join Kid. One was a tall woman with dark brown hair and wide brown eyes, reminding her somewhat of a hawk from the sharp way she was watching her. The other was a raven-haired, hazel-eyed beauty with a full figure and a vivaciousness about her; she was entertaining an entire table of men.
Ruth set the glasses down on the table and sat down right beside him, so they could keep their voices low. His eyes were not on her face but on her chest. He looked shocked, angry, and turned on all at the same time.
"You know, I feel self-conscious enough without you staring at me like that," she told him, taking a sip of the tea.
"I'm sorry, but it's a very big distraction. You know you ain't exactly dressed like a schoolmarm, don't you?"
"I'm aware of that, yes."
"And that others can see you like this? Other men?"
"Unfortunately, yes, but it's what the girls wear and I've seen fancy society ladies show just as much up top. I don't personally like it, but I think the Lord understands the need in this situation."
"The need? Just what exactly do you call yourself doing anyhow?"
"I'm helping you feel people out and folks will talk to me like this in ways they wouldn't if I was just plain old Sister Ruth. And just so you know, I'm going by May. Is there any name I should know about?"
All Kid had on besides his shirt was his vest. It was too hot and sticky outside for a jacket, but he wished he had one now, so he could cover her and block the lusty stares she was receiving from other men. "Well, May, I appreciate that you want to help, but I have this under control."
"Really? You know who did it?"
"No, but I'm working on it."
"Have you talked to the girls yet? They're the ones most likely to know something worth knowing about. Maybe they even got some ideas on who done it. Could save you some time."
"I know. I just haven't got around to them yet, but I will. I'm scouting out my own suspects first. The guy's got to be a regular. I'm finding out who the regulars are."
"Can't you see my newfound position makes it as easy as can be to talk to them? Suspicion is going to get raised if you're asking them questions. They're going to want to know why you're so interested, but as a girl in the same saloon, of course I'd want to know what happened to them."
He wanted to argue, but she had made a good point. And he was well aware that he lacked the patience and finesse to get people to open up about private matters. His main tactic was intimidation, which wasn't always helpful. He was considering letting her assist.
She saw she was making headway and continued while his defenses were down, "I can be a big help to you this way. I can even attract the attention of the killer. Lure him out of the woodwork to make him easy for you to capture."
That was the wrong thing to say. She saw it from the way his temples throbbed in telltale anger. He was going to raise his voice to tell her what he thought of that idea and ruin everything, so she cut him off by practically jumping in his lap and kissing him hard. She didn't ease up until she felt him let go of some of the tension.
He was breathing hard when she pulled away, partly from the sudden lack of oxygen and partly because he still wasn't too happy with the situation.
"Let's talk about this in a more private situation," she said in a whisper that made it look like she was whispering sweet nothings in his ear, further fueling that idea to observers by tucking his hair behind his enticingly and gently blowing around his ear.
His teeth were still gritted from her last suggestion. She really had lost her mind if she thought he was going to let her be used as bait, but he got out a terse, "Let's."
He started to follow her to her room, but Rufus blocked his way. "Got to pay first, Mr. Williams."
He had to pay to talk with his own wife? That didn't improve his mood, but he dug into his pocket for the money. He sincerely hoped this was just for show or he was going to have a bone to pick with Rufus later.
Behind a closed, fairly soundproof door, she told him, "Well, as long as you paid for me, you might as well take me. You only have an hour, I believe." She flounced and shook like one of the girls out there might have done to attract the attention of potential customers. She was trying to get a laugh out of him, but he wasn't having it.
"I find nothing funny about this situation. You just reminded me why you're going to get your clothes on and go back to your aunt Dorcas'. Does she know about this crazy scheme of yours?"
"She knows where I am, not what I'm doing. I'll get Rufus to get a note to her, so she won't worry."
"She's going to worry if you plan on telling her the truth." He spotted her real clothes in the corner and went and retrieved them. "And Mercy. You thought about Mercy?"
"I have and it's a good thing I've already weaned her. She can do without me for a few days as much as it pains me to be away from her."
He threw her clothes on the bed angrily when she didn't take them. "Blast it, Ruth. How in thunderation do you think you're to work as a saloon girl without needing to entertain the men?"
"Swearing at me ain't going to accomplish anything. Rufus'll look out for me. He said I wouldn't have to do that part of the job and I trust him. I know it's a strange thing to say about a saloonkeeper, but I've got a good feeling about him and I know he'll keep his word. He'll come up with some excuse if the men want to be alone with me and if he won't, I will."
"If they do? They will. You really think you can trust Rufus, huh?"
"Yeah, I do, and even without my good feeling, it wouldn't be much of a tavern without the women, would it? His main interest right now is finding the killer."
"You got me there. But he can't be your bodyguard all the time and neither can I. How do you plan on protecting yourself?"
"Prayer and I've got Uncle Israel's pistol in my reticule."
"Fine job it's going to do you with your reticule in here, and there aren't many places you can strap a gun of any size in a dress that clingy."
"Don't I know it. That's why I had to leave it in here."
"If you're going to do this thing," he said, indicating he was coming around, "I want you armed at all times."
"I will be and I'll make sure there's always somebody nearby to hear me."
"And if I say enough, that it's gotten too dangerous for you, you'll leave without arguing?"
"You can count on it."
He sighed in resignation. "You got garters on?"
"Well, I ain't holding the stockings up all by myself."
He pulled out his pocketknife and got down on his knees. He lifted her skirt up. "Here, hold this."
She took the silken hem and petticoat while he loosened the left garter and placed the cold weapon against her skin. He tightened the garter again, so that the knife was firmly in place.
"This is just backup. It's not easy to fight with and don't ever throw it. Keep it gripped firmly in your hand if you got to use it, but keep the pistol with you as much as you can; it's not only safer, but you actually know how to use it."
He had her practice retrieving it a few times while he watched and instructed from his knees. He couldn't help that he was very aroused by her at the moment. He wouldn't tell her how proud he was of her bravery as it would only encourage her, but she was one-of-a-kind and he was heated as much by that as he was by her current dress. "You know we might as well make this convincing. If we don't come out flushed and with your perfect hair, looking a little less perfect, they might catch on."
She smiled. "You're right, and it wouldn't do to come out before the hour's up either."
This time he practiced disarming her, pulling the garter that held the weapon loose with his teeth. There were definite positives to working so closely with your wife, he thought.