Revenge and the Wild(50)

“Deal!” Westie kissed his cheek, hardly able to contain her excitement. Perhaps if he pushed Nadia further, she might remember details that would lead the sheriff to Lavina. It was more than she’d expected to get. With a grumble he went back to his wife.

On her way back to the table, Nigel approached her with a man she didn’t recognize.

“Westie,” Nigel said, “I’d like to introduce you to my banker from Sacramento, Amos Little.”

The man had a white slick of hair on his head, a matching mustache, and a stature befitting his name.

“How do you do?” Westie said, still glowing from her conversation with the sheriff.

“Oh, fine,” he said, all smiles until the mayor walked by. The two of them stared each other down like two dogs with their ears pinned back. Westie’s curiosity was piqued when she saw the exchange. “I just wanted to meet the debutante before I head back to the inn.” Amos’s posture eased when the mayor disappeared in the crowd.

“You’re leaving already?” Westie said, hoping he’d stay long enough for her to learn what the cold look between Amos and the mayor was all about. “The night is young.”

Amos put a hand on his belly. “Afraid I must. This blasted ulcer is acting up again.”

“I’ve given him a treatment and a sedative to help him through the night,” Nigel said, patting him on the back with a sympathetic frown.

“Unless you feel like dragging my body around the dance floor with your machine after I’ve passed out, I best be off,” Amos said.

Westie winked at him. “Wouldn’t you know, that’s how I get all the men to dance with me.”

Chuckling, Amos said, “I doubt that very much,” and shuffled off toward the exit.

“What was that between the banker and the mayor?” Westie asked Nigel after Amos was gone.

Nigel pursed his lips. “I haven’t the faintest idea, but I’m sure two of the most powerful men in the valley are bound to butt heads at some point.”

Though curious, Westie let it go for the time being and took Nigel up on his offer to dance. She thought it was a fluke that he’d stomped all over Myrtle Grey’s toes, but alas, it was not.

While Nigel spun her around the room, Westie watched Olive Fairfield dance on her father’s feet. The love she saw in Hubbard’s eyes as he twirled his child around reminded her of her own father. She inwardly reprimanded herself, furious that she’d even let Hubbard near her father, even if it was in her head.

Olive spun and laughed while her cornflower-blue dress floated around her and her golden locks danced about her little round cheeks, pink with merriment. The father and daughter looked so utterly normal, almost sweet.

After her dance with Nigel, a new song began. She was about to check her dance card to see who was next when she looked up and saw Isabelle’s face bright with happiness as she danced with Cain across the room. Westie’s heart came to a sudden halt, and so did her feet. Other dancers bumped into her, glaring until they noticed it was the debutante.

Her legs began to move again. She headed toward the couple, ripe with anger but no plan, and was jerked to a stop when someone grabbed her flesh arm. She spun around to find Nigel. He looked at Westie, then back at Isabelle and Cain. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip was tight.

“Do not make a scene,” he warned her. “Tell Isabelle that Cain Fairfield has a reputation for whoring, nothing more.”

He was close to her ear, breath blistering against her skin, and when he spoke his s’s were too crisp. That was all she heard.

When she finally wriggled free of him, Westie smoothed her skirts and gathered her wits before she stepped up to the smiling couple. Cain was like a monument beside Isabelle. He was broad through the shoulders like his father, with the sharp, predatory features of his mother. He wasn’t ugly really, but he was no James. There was no hint of family resemblance between the Fairfields and Lovett. Still, youth made everyone appealing to some. Money made everyone appealing to most, which Westie gathered was the reason behind Isabelle’s sudden interest in Cain. His evening attire reeked of money. He wore tall boots with brass buckles, and a matching tailcoat with gold-and-diamond buttons on the cuffs.

His hair was oiled and slicked like James’s, and it was the same dark color too instead of his usual gold. It made Westie wonder what the true color of James’s hair was. Though Cain wore his hair in a similar style as James, it made him look more like a rodent than ever before. If there was one thing that could distract Isabelle from a person’s looks, it was money.

“Well, aren’t you two a lovely couple,” Westie said. Her sugary-sweet words burned on her tongue.

Isabelle looked at Westie and beamed.

Cain bowed to her. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss Butler.” He didn’t carry the same bruises as James from their fight, but he held his left arm like he was favoring it. “I look forward to our dance.”

Like Westie, he still had the slightest twang of poor folk when he spoke, just as she remembered from their brief time spent in the cabin.

“As do I. I believe our dance is up next, isn’t it?” She checked her card to make sure.

That made Isabelle pout.

“Could I borrow my friend a moment?” Westie said. “Girl talk, you know.”

Isabelle giggled annoyingly. Her brain turned to pig slop whenever she was interested in a boy.