Disorder in the House [How the West Was Done 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read Online Free PDF Page B

liked it for now, until she found something more worthwhile to do, and her sister Ivy ran the telegraph next door.
    She could tell this man was different—educated, well-mannered, even a bit shy—so she greeted him personally instead of slopping the chile con carne into his mug. He looked up at her politely from underneath the sootiest lashes she’d ever seen on a man, and she only caught a glimpse of his beautifully outlined eyes from under the brim of his white planter’s hat.
    But she must’ve been wrong, because now he merely gaped at her, his shapely lower lip drooping.
    “This place is called the Cactus Club?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she replied, already serving the next man in line. That thug went to pay the cashier at the end of the line, but already three men jostled to take his place. Normally another girl served alongside her, but Irene had gone an hour ago to the Bucket of Blood saloon.
    “Why is it called the Cactus Club?”
    “I think it has to do with the whiskey-root cactus.”
    Someone shoved this elegant man in the shoulder, causing some chile to splash the waist of his army coat. His wonderfully muscled, lean waist, Liberty shamefully noted.
    “Move it, buck!” the yokel shouted.
    But since he was built like a brick house, the man didn’t move the tiniest inch, so another roughneck shoved him.
    “Take a walk, shade!”
    Liberty knew how ugly these men could become even when not hungry, so she bellowed at them, “Shut your traps, or you flatheads ain’t getting no fixings!” She had already learned to talk like that, and she’d only been in Laramie for three days.
    This shut them up long enough for the army fellow to race around her side of the sideboard, put down his chile mug, and grab Irene’s ladle. “Let me help. I’m a cook.” In a flash, he was serving his former enemies.
    “Oh, my!” Liberty was genuinely touched by the assistance. A surge of warmth went through her, convincing her she’d been correct in her first assessment of this man. “You cook for the army?”
    He flashed a brief but wide smile at her. “Fort Sanders. Name’s Garrett O’Rourke. Nice to meet you.”
    “Nice to meet you, Private O’Rourke. I’m Libby. Then what are you doing here in town?”
    “I’m looking for a man named Moses Taggart. Have you heard of him?”
    “I’ve heard that he’s a lying, cheating toad. The gal who usually serves with me here told me that a month ago he gave her a black eye and stole a necklace from her. But no one’s seen him since.”
    “That sounds about like Moses Taggart. I’m actually looking for an associate of his who took something important from me, too. Would you happen to know where Taggart was last seen?”
    Liberty thought as she scraped the bottom of the cast-iron pot with the ladle. She didn’t want to assist anyone in a mission that might have violent results, as low as Taggart might have been. Then again, she liked to think she was a good judge of character, and she was profoundly impressed with Garrett’s demeanor. And Taggart had stolen Irene’s necklace. Still, she didn’t know Garrett. Anyone could put on a private’s coat and pretend to have been a cook at the fort. “What did the associate take from you?”
    Garrett didn’t miss a beat as he ladled out the remains of the beef stew. He didn’t even slop any over the edges of the men’s chipped mugs. But he looked sideways at Liberty with his expressive, stirring eyes, and she knew this man was incapable of a lie. “He stole my dead wife’s wedding ring from me.”
    Garrett continued to level his shivering, sad eyes on her even while scraping ladlefuls of nothing into men’s cups. They probably would have stood there over the empty pot until a hungry tracklayer hit them over the head with it, but Irene came back from the Bucket of Blood then and eased the ladle out of Garrett’s hand.
    “Thanks for the break,” Irene chirped. “They’re ten deep at the bar in the Bucket of Blood.