Chapter 10
“Temperance Tempest,” Big Jim called. “You’re just the gal we want to see.”
“We’ve got big plans,” Saul added.
When they stopped in front of Tempest, she put her hands on her hips, ready to dissuade them from whatever they had in mind for her.
“Seeing as how you chopped Lulu in half and got my saloon in an uproar—” Big Jim started.
“And gave both your businesses a boost,” Lucky said.
“Be that as it may,” Big Jim continued, “Tempest still owes me. She agreed to spend a night in jail and here she is in the Lone Star’s best room.”
“I didn’t ask for it,” Tempest said.
“That don’t make no never-mind,” Big Jim added. “The fine patrons of the Red River Saloon have taken a vote.”
“On what?” she asked.
“We agreed that you’ll be forgiven your rash behavior if you’ll find the bar’s artist and get him to repair Lulu.”
Tempest cast a quick glance at Lucky to see how he was reacting to this outrageous statement.
“She has no way to find the artist and you know it,” Lucky said. “What do you really want?”
“Nobody can settle down until the artist fixes Lulu,” Saul said.
“He could be anywhere,” Tempest said. “California. Back East.”
“Nope.” Big Jim puffed out his chest, appearing pleased. “He’s in Indian Territory.”
“How do you know?” Tempest asked.
“Man came in last night and drank at the bar. He said he’d seen some art like it in Burnt Boggy Saloon. Not as good, mind you, but the artist is swilling whiskey north of the Red River. It’s your duty to get him back here.”
“If I did find him,” Tempest said, “how could I persuade him?”
“Offer him something,” Saul said.
“Tempest is famous now.” Big Jim glanced around at the group. “She could offer to pose for him.”
“What?” Tempest cried out.
“Not in the altogether,” Saul quickly explained. “We’d never ask that of a lady.”
“We decided that a color painting of you in a fancy red gown in a big gold frame would look right proper above the bar. Course, he’d fix Lulu, too,” Big Jim said.
“Forget it,” Lucky said. “She’s too busy.”
“That would be expensive.” Tempest didn’t look at Lucky, knowing he wouldn’t want any part of this scheme. But Elmira and Lamira needed help. Up to this point in life, she had always been good. She’d been a lovely bride and a respectable lady, but Haig and Mrs. Bartholomew had set her on a new path. Now she felt as if she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
“We took up a collection.” Big Jim pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket and held it out to her. “If they come from miles around to see the bar, they’ll come clear from Dallas or Paris to see a painting of you.”
“And I’m hoping he’ll paint a small portrait for the Temperance Tempest Room,” Saul added.
Tempest couldn’t imagine anybody riding any distance to see her. She wasn’t famous. She was just a discarded bride. Yet she couldn’t turn down the money. “I suppose you’ve included a model fee, the costume price, and the artist’s payment.”
Big Jim frowned.
“Add this to the pot.” Saul pulled out an eagle.
“You sure?” Big Jim pulled open the drawstring pouch.
“There’s only one Temperance Tempest and the Bend’s got her.” Saul plopped the gold coin in with the others.
“Okay,” Big Jim agreed. “It’s bidness.” He thrust the bag toward Tempest. “Take it. Find the artist. Get us our painting. And we’re even.”
“Two paintings,” Saul insisted.
“She doesn’t have time,” Lucky said. “She’s working for me now.”
Tempest took the pouch and felt its weight. “This is a big collection from the saloon.”
“If it’s not enough, we’ll get more,” Saul said.
“Don’t tell her that,” Big Jim said. “You can see she’s a lady with a mind for math. That’s dangerous.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll look for the artist, but don’t expect results soon.”
“Great!” Saul said. “Come on, Big Jim. Let’s get two signs made up that say FUTURE HOME OF THE TEMPERANCE TEMPEST PAINTING.”
“She accepted my job first,” Lucky said.
“We all agree she’s a popular lady,” Big Jim said. “We’ll wait, but not too long.”
“Let’s go plan our signs.” Saul headed for the stairs. “I want curlicues around her name.”
Big Jim joined him. “Red. I want the letters to stand out.”
As they disappeared down the stairs, Tempest couldn’t help shaking her head. She’d gone from trying to stop the sale of liquor to helping sell it. Delaware Bend was obviously setting her free from the restrictions she’d felt all her life.
Lucky whirled her around to face him. “We don’t have time to go gallivanting around Indian Territory for them.”
She stepped back. “We’re going to look for whiskey peddlers anyway. When we find the artist, he can make some sketches, finish the painting in the Bend, and repair Lulu. It won’t take that much of our time.”
“I can see why they want your portrait. But what’s more important is that you’re a Spirit Rattler.”
“Are you a Rattler, too?”
“This isn’t about me.”
“I told you before. I need the money.” She opened her chatelaine, tucked the pouch inside, and felt the extra weight drag on the waistband of her skirt.
“I’m paying you.”
“They are, too.”
“What would Mrs. Bartholomew say if she saw your painting hanging in a saloon?”
“I don’t much care what she’d say, but paintings are never accurate. I doubt anybody would recognize me.”
He shook his head. “You’re stubborn as a mule. I don’t know how you expect to be a man’s ladylove.”
She smiled at the idea of being his ladylove.
“What are you smiling about?”
“We’ll be covering a lot of miles together. Maybe you’ll see another side to me.”
He chuckled, revealing his dimple. “I’d like to see every side of you.”
She leaned in close, feeling daring and a little naughty. “And I’d like to see more of you.”