Page 109 of Native Hawk
Chapter 32
Drew spit in his palms and got a good grip on the crate. “You ready?”
Across from him, Chase nodded and hefted up his end.
The ladies at The Parlor leaned over the balustrade, watching with interest as the twins hauled the heavy crate, step by step, up the stairs of The Parlor.
“Don’t you ladies have gentlemen waitin’ for you?” Miss Hattie asked.
Most of them reluctantly returned to their rooms.
“What’s in here anyway, a railroad safe?” Chase asked with a grunt.
“You’ll see,” Drew replied.
It had taken two weeks, but the shipment had finally come in.
At Drew’s suggestion and with Miss Hattie’s permission, Catalina had taken the day off and gone to the Parker Ranch to visit Claire. When she returned, there would be a splendid surprise in her room.
Earning the money to buy it had been challenging, especially once Sheriff Campbell cornered Drew with an ultimatum.
It seemed that after the shooting death of Sheriff Jasper Brown by one of his sons—according to witnesses, though no one could prove it—Sheriff Campbell had done some investigating of his own. He’d made inquiries about a certain related incident at the Winsome Saloon in Shasta where the sheriff’s youngest son Billy had been killed. The bartender admitted it had looked like an accident to him—an unlucky crack on the head—but Jasper, convinced the half-breed gambler had killed his boy, had come looking for Drew Hawk in Paradise.
It was a sticky business. A person could argue that Drew wasn’t exactly innocent in all this. There was also some mention of Miss Hattie having confiscated the boys’ guns. But Sheriff Campbell said he’d be willing to overlook some of the details and cover for Drew on one condition…
Drew had to play poker with him. The sheriff was still pining over his lost ladylove and convinced he was going to win back his money and his girl. No matter how Drew tried to persuade him that gambling was no way to impress Maggie Ellen, the sheriff insisted it was what he wanted to do.
Naturally, Drew had to agree…and he had to lose. He’d spent a week cheating—folding when he had a straight flush, betting a fortune on a pair of eights,accidentallyletting the sheriff take a good gander at his cards—until he finally repaid every penny he’d profited.
Unfortunately, it had taken a toll on the savings he was trying to amass for his wedding. And he wasn’t winning enough off of other players to make up for that. It seemed like it’d be months before they could afford to get married.
In the end, it was the brilliant Miss Hattie who’d come through for him.
He’d been standing on a step ladder one morning while Cat was out, bringing down the crystal chandelier for her to polish when the madam said, “You know, I never returned those two pistols to the Brown boys.”
Drew hesitated, chandelier in hand.
“You aren’t thinkin’ o’ clearin’ your conscience, are you?” If she returned the murder weapon, she’d have no leverage over the sheriff’s sons. “’Cause those boys might come lookin’ to avenge their—”
“Hell, no.” She reached her arms up to take the chandelier, setting it gently on the carpet. Then she dusted off her hands. “I got that revolver off o’ their daddy too.”
He smirked as he climbed down from the ladder. “Yeah, you got quite the gun collection, Miss Hattie.”
“That’s what the man from Chico said.”
He folded up the ladder and set it against the wall. “What man?”
“The one who bought ’em off o’ me.”
“You sold ’em.”
“I did. Got a nice bundle for ’em too. They weren’t exactly pearl-handled revolvers. But they fetched a decent price.”
“Well, good for you.” Drew smiled. At least something good had come of the incident. “You need me for anything else?”
“Just this,” she said.
Reaching over the bar, she brought out a small leather satchel and handed it to him. It was heavy.
