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  The pity was that even though they put their heads together, they still didn't have enough brains between them to think of anything remotely plausible.

  And so they lied. Everyone who stopped by the hotel or the saloon that day was told that Ruby Leigh Diamond had already arrived.

  By six o'clock that evening, Pickerman had gone through three handkerchiefs mopping the sweat from his brow. Steeple had worn two blisters on his toes from pacing around his saloon in his brand-new two-toned shoes. He decided that the only way he was going to be able to keep that noose from slipping around his neck was to blame Pickerman and shoot him down like a mad dog before the truth came out. Ironically, Pickerman had come up with the very same idea.

  They took off with their guns blazing and had each other pinned down outside of town in Tommy Murphy's tomato field. They were so busy trying to kill each other they almost let a golden opportunity ride past. Pickerman just happened to jump up from behind the rock where he had been hiding, with the intention of putting a bullet in Steeple's backside because it was the biggest and easiest target he could find, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a beautiful woman on horseback trotting by.

  He called an immediate truce by waving his soggy handkerchief in the air with one hand and pointing his pistol toward the beautiful woman in the distance with his other hand.

  Steeple caught on to Pickerman's plan right away. "We've been saved," he shouted.

  "She could be our manna from heaven," Pickerman shouted back.

  In unison, the men tucked their guns in their pants and ran to intercept her before she got away. They were running so fast the heels of their shoes smacked their backsides. When they came barreling around the corner of the dirt road that led into town, they spotted Adam and immediately stopped dead in their tracks.

  Steeple put his hands up in the air to let the big stranger know he didn't mean to do any harm. Pickerman mopped his brow but kept a wary eye on the woman's companion.

  "Wait up, miss," Steeple shouted. "We got a proposition for you."

  "It's a moneymaker," Pickerman bellowed.

  Genevieve reined her horse in. Adam shook his head at her and told her to keep going.

  "Aren't you the least bit curious?" she asked while she waited for the two strangers to catch up with her.

  "No," he answered.

  "He mentioned money," she said. "You have to be low on funds, and I'm completely out. It would be foolish of me not to listen to what they have to say," she added.

  Adam was incredulous. "You don't have any money at all?"

  "No, I—"

  "You gave it away, didn't you?"

  "Now, why would you—"

  "Did you?" he demanded.

  "As a matter of fact, I did. I had to," she cried out. "If you had only seen—"

  She was going to tell him about the couple she had encountered on the road the day before yesterday and how desperate their situation was, but Adam didn't give her an opportunity.

  "Had to give it away? Were you robbed?"

  "No, I wasn't—"

  "I cannot believe you would go traipsing—"

  "Their need was greater than mine," she interrupted. "And I don't traipse anywhere."

  He took a deep, calming breath. "Exactly how were you planning to get to Salt Lake?"

  She turned back to him. "I will either ride my horse there or I will sell her and use the money to buy a ticket on the coach. I did think things through," she added.

  "And if you can't get enough money to buy a ticket?"

  "Then I won't sell the mare."

  "What about food and shelter and—"

  "Adam, it's ridiculous for you to get angry. I can always find work," she assured him.

  Pickerman's huffing and puffing turned her attention. He was the first to reach her side. Steeple was hot on his heels. Adam instinctively moved his rifle across his lap. The barrel was pointed at the men.

  He then ordered the strangers to step away from her.

  They barely gave him a glance, for both were staring up at Genevieve with expressions of rapture on their faces.

  Pickerman made the introductions. "How would you like to earn twenty whole dollars?"

  Steeple poked him hard in his ribs and smiled when he heard him grunt in pain.

  "You might have gotten her for ten," he muttered.

  Genevieve glanced at Adam to see how he was reacting to the pair. His expression showed only mild disdain. The two men were peculiar, she thought, and complete opposites in appearance. One was tall and thin and seemed to have a problem with perspiration. His face was dripping wet. The other man was short and squat. He seemed to have a problem walking, for she noticed he was grimacing and kept hopping from foot to foot.

  "What exactly did you have in mind, gentlemen?" she asked.

  Steeple answered her. "We just want you to spend the evening entertaining some folks."

  Adam exploded. "That's it," he roared. "Genevieve, we're leaving. As for you two—"

  Pickerman raised his hands. "It ain't what it sounded like. We're in a bind, a real bind, and if the lady won't help us out, we'll be hanged for sure."

  Steeple vigorously nodded. "I own the saloon next to his hotel," he said with a nod toward Pickerman. "I got a real fancy stage, and sometimes we get big-name entertainers to come here. Both of us happened to observe what a nice pair of ankles you have, miss, and we're hoping and praying your legs are just as shapely."

  "You aren't going to be seeing her legs," Adam snapped.

  "Steeple, shut your trap 'cause you're only making the gentleman mad every time you speak. Let me tell it," Pickerman demanded. He paused to mop his face with his handkerchief and then said, "We're in a real bad way, miss. We've already disappointed folks twice in the past month because the entertainers we sent for didn't show up. Now it's happened again. We collected money and sent for Miss Ruby Leigh Diamond to come and sing and dance at the saloon. We whet everyone's appetite by putting up signs all over town, and wouldn't you know it? She didn't come. In about an hour and a half, folks are going to start getting suspicious. They'll catch on quick when she doesn't come twirling out on stage."

  "I expect they will," she agreed.

  "All you got to do is pretend to be Ruby," Steeple pleaded.

  "Ruby Leigh Diamond? That can't be the woman's real name," she said, trying hard not to laugh.

  "Alice," Pickerman blurted out. "Her name's Alice O'Reilly."

  "Then she's Irish."

  "Yes, miss, she is," Steeple said.

  Genevieve smiled. "I'm not Irish," she said quietly. "My ancestors came here from Africa. Surely you noticed. You cannot think anyone would think I'm Ruby Leigh Diamond, for heaven's sake. Have you lost your wits?"

  "Begging your pardon, miss, but I don't think you grasp the seriousness of our predicament. We'll lose our necks if we don't find a pretty lady to go out on stage," Steeple whined. "You don't have to be Ruby if you don't want to. We can give you another stage name. How about Opal or Emerald?"

  "My name is Genevieve. What exactly am I expected to do on stage?"

  "Don't you see? We don't rightly care what you do. You're real pretty, and maybe if you twirl around a couple of times and sashay back and forth, folks will think they got their money's worth."

  "Are you about ready to get going?" Adam asked.

  She shook her head. "These gentlemen do seem to be in a bind. If I help them out, I could be saving their hides."

  "Yes, miss, that's exactly right," Pickerman agreed.

  She did feel sorry for them, but she was also intrigued by the possibility of replenishing her funds so quickly. It was an appealing proposition. There was a dilemma however.

  "I do sing, but only in church," she explained.

  "She sings, Pickerman," Steeple shouted. "It's a sign, I tell you. She was sent to us."

  "There you have it," Steeple said. "You sing. That's what you'll do, then."

  "Can you twirl?" Pickerman wanted to know.
r />   Adam was shaking his head. She ignored him and asked, "Is twirling important?"

  Steeple shrugged. "I expect so," he said. "Folks will want to see your ankles."

  She glanced at Adam, saw his dark expression, and knew he'd reached his boiling point.

  "I don't think I'll be doing any twirling or sashaying, but I would like to earn thirty dollars. I'll sing for that amount of money and not a dollar less."

  The two men didn't need to discuss the matter. Steeple reached up and shook her hand. "You've got yourself a deal, little lady."

  "May I have the money in advance?" she asked.

  "As soon as you step out on stage, we'll give the money to your companion," Steeple told her with a nod toward Adam.

  "He'll shoot you if you don't pay him," she said sweetly.

  Pickerman turned to Adam. "You won't have to shoot anyone. He'll pay."

  "Now all we have to do is sneak you in the back door of the saloon so folks won't know you only just got there."

  "I've never been inside a saloon," she remarked.

  "Well, now, this will be a treat for you," Pickerman said.

  Adam's patience was all used up. "Genevieve, I'm putting my foot down. You aren't going to sing for a bunch of drunk men."

  "There might be women there too," Steeple promised.

  "Adam, have some compassion," Genevieve said. "These gentlemen need my help."

  Both Pickerman and Steeple nodded in unison, their chins wobbling like a pair of turkeys pecking at the ground.

  "People will understand if they tell them the truth," Adam said.

  "We can't tell them Ruby didn't show. They'll hang us," Steeple insisted.

  "Don't you have a sheriff in Gramby?" Genevieve asked.

  "Yes, miss, we do," Pickerman answered. "But he isn't in Gramby today. He headed over to Middleton as soon as he heard their bank was robbed. Folks over there don't need his help though, because there are three U.S. marshals on their way to Middleton now. They'll catch the robbers quick enough."

  "But Middleton's a couple of hours away, and by the time our sheriff comes back home, we'll be swingin' from the trees," Steeple said.

  "You took money for tickets, didn't you?" Adam asked.

  "We did," Steeple agreed.

  "Then give them refunds."

  The men looked horrified by the notion. "We couldn't do that," Pickerman said.

  "It's bad business," Steeple interjected.

  Adam gave up trying to make them be reasonable. Genevieve continued to look sympathetic.

  "Miss Genevieve, do you happen to have a nice little something to wear on stage?"

  She smiled. "I have just the thing."

  Chapter Nine

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  She wore her favorite church dress. It was the color of freshly churned butter and had a matching wide-brimmed hat, wrist-length gloves, and shoes. The dress was long-sleeved and covered her ankles and her neck, and therefore met Adam's stipulations. Nevertheless, he still wasn't happy when he saw her all decked out in her Sunday finery. Neither were Steeple and Pickerman. They took turns begging her to find something else to put on.

  Adam had insisted they stay at the boardinghouse outside of town, but there hadn't been time to go there to change her clothes, and so she'd ended up using Steeple's storage closet behind the stage. She made Pickerman guard the door, ignoring his protest that he was breaking a sacred vow by entering Steeple's den of iniquity. Adam and Steeple waited near the stage. When she stepped out and asked Adam if she looked all right, he shook his head and told her she would incite men's appetites wearing such a revealing garment. While Steeple pleaded with her to at least roll up her sleeves, Adam moved forward, nudged her chin up, and fastened her two top buttons.

  She knew he was angry that he hadn't been able to change her mind. He knew she was nervous, because he could feel her trembling.

  "It isn't too late to leave," he whispered.

  She moved closer to him and tried to smile. "I am a little nervous," she admitted.

  He put his arms around her, but resisted the urge to try to shake some sense into her.

  "Then let's go. You don't have any business inside a saloon. You're too refined for such a place."

  She thought that was a lovely thing for him to say. "I am?" she asked.

  "Let's go."

  She shook her head. "It's thirty whole dollars," she reminded him once again. "I could pay you back what I owe you."

  "You don't owe me anything."

  "I made you give your money to the Meadows family, remember?"

  His head dropped down toward hers so that he could hear her whispers over the crowd's shouts coming from the other side of the stage.

  "You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do."

  "For the love of God, now isn't the time to be whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears. We got a situation here," Steeple cried out.

  "The audience sounds… restless," she said.

  "It isn't an audience, it's a mob," Adam snapped.

  Steeple latched onto Genevieve's arm. "If he'll unhand you, I'll show you where you should wait."

  He tugged her away from Adam and then guided her over to the left side of the stage behind the red velvet drape. She had grabbed hold of Adam's hand and wouldn't let go. He kept trying to get her to change her mind, but she was in such a panic now, she could barely hear a word he said.

  The noise of the crowd was deafening. Pride kept her from picking up her skirts and running for safety. She had given her word, and she meant to keep it.

  She tried to look out at the audience, but Steeple saw what she was about to do and rushed forward to put himself in front of her.

  The crowd was getting restless. As one, they began to chant Ruby Leigh Diamond's name and pound their fists on the tables. They hurled their empty whiskey bottles at the walls and the stage.

  The noise was frightful. "They sound… impatient," Genevieve said when she heard a loud crash.

  "Ruby… Ruby… Ruby…" the crowd chanted.

  "You still haven't told them Ruby isn't here?" Adam demanded.

  "I'm going out there now to tell them," Steeple promised. He turned to Genevieve. "After I introduce you, the band will start playing, and you come on out."

  "Wait," she cried when he turned to leave. "What will they be playing?"

  Steeple smiled. "Well, now, no one rightly knows. Elvin will be pounding a tune on his piano, and the two fiddlers I hired will figure it out and catch up in no time."

  "But what is the song?"

  "Is that important?"

  "Yes," she stammered.

  He patted her arm. "It'll be fine. Just fine," he promised.

  Her stomach was doing flips. She thought she might be turning green too. She dared a peek out at the audience and was immediately sorry. There were two men hanging down from the balcony above, and both were pouring bottles of liquor on the cantankerous crowd below.

  She jumped back and sagged against Adam's chest. "Oh, dear," she whispered.

  Adam had never felt such acute frustration in his entire life. Why must Genevieve be so stubborn? Didn't she know that as soon as the crowd heard that Ruby wouldn't be performing, they would tear the place apart?

  "Are you still hell-bent on this foolishness?"

  Before she could answer, Pickerman came running. "You'd best get on out there," he told Steeple. "Fargus is swinging from your chandelier and cross-eyed Harry is trying to lasso him with his rope. They're both drunk as skunks."

  Adam reached over Genevieve's shoulder and grabbed Steeple by his collar. "If anyone gets near her while she's out there, I'm going to shoot him. Got that?"

  Steeple vigorously nodded and then scurried out on stage. She held her breath in anticipation of the crowd's reaction when they heard Ruby wasn't there.

  Steeple had both his hands up with the palms out and was waving to the audience to be quiet. An expectant hush followed. Fargus let go of the chandelier and landed
on top of the table to take his seat. Cross-eyed Harry dropped his rope and sat down next to his friend. He let out a loud, low belch. The crowd erupted in laughter, but quieted down again as soon as Steeple motioned to them.

  "Now, men, I told you Miss Ruby Leigh Diamond would be performing tonight—"

  He abruptly stopped. The crowd leaned forward and waited expectantly for him to continue. Steeple didn't say another word for a full minute. He simply stood in the center of the stage, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other, smiling at his audience as he squinted out at them. They squinted back. The seconds ticked by, and the only sound that could be heard was the squeak of Steeple's brand-new, two-toned shoes.

  The audience soon grew impatient. A murmur of dissent began in the back of the saloon, and like a wave, it gathered momentum as it worked its way forward.

  Just as Fargus was turning to the chandelier and his companion was reaching for his rope, a slow, sly smile came over Steeple's face.

  "I promised you Ruby Leigh Diamond," he bellowed. "And here she is."

  With a flourish, he bowed low to Genevieve, straightened back up, and gave Elvin the signal to start pounding on his piano. Then he ran as though lightning were chasing him to the opposite side of the stage. He ducked behind the curtain, but peeked out to see how the audience was reacting.

  Pickerman slapped thirty dollars into the palm of Adam's hand, gave Genevieve a pitying glance and a quick shove toward the stage, and then ran to find a place to hide.

  Adam was glaring at Steeple. "I'm going to kill that son of a—"

  She interrupted him. "This is going to be an adventure," she whispered.

  She straightened her shoulders, forced a smile, and inched her way onto the stage.

  Adam went with her. He moved out just far enough to be seen by everyone. He slowly lifted his rifle, slipped his finger through the trigger ring, and pointed the barrel at the center of the crowd. His message wasn't subtle. The first man who dared to utter a single word of disappointment over the obvious fact that Genevieve wasn't Ruby was going to get shot. If the weapon wasn't a sufficient deterrent, the expression on his face was. He looked bad-tempered and trigger-happy.