Free Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Karen Mercury

that.”
    Alameda laughed in delight. She didn’t see how his women’s measure could not pass, he was so thoroughly charming. “I will make sure not to cook you any chili with pork.”
    She paused when it struck her that this must imply she ever would cook for him. So she asked him something she had been curious about. “You seem very athletic. Do you participate in sports? I was a member of a group that played lawn tennis together, with Kittie Wells, and it was very invigorating.” She giggled. “But I must bind my breasts down or they flop all over.” She reached for Liberty’s green gown and stepped into it.
    Derrick politely averted his eyes. “Oh, yes. In fact, I was going to ask you if there were any sportsmen in town. I enjoy alpine skiing, and this would be the ideal place for it. I have some new ideas for some stops and turns one could make while skiing. Unfortunately I left my skis back in South Pass. There’s a new house waiting for me in Cheyenne, but I didn’t ship my skis on the train.” He chuckled. “I only shipped the real important items, like my harpoon and my seal’s paw.”
    “Yes, I have seen a couple of fellows skiing. From Germany, I believe they are. We could find out who made their skis.”
    “I’d like to start a baseball team, when the weather gets better,” Derrick rambled. “Cheyenne isn’t so very far from here.”
    “I’m sure there are lots of Laramie residents who would like that. If you can manage to convince them you had nothing to do with Kittie’s disappearance.”
    “Better yet, if I can help find her.”
    Now Rudy knocked on the bedroom door to tell them Jeremiah was sliding off his chair, still in a dead faint. Alameda adjusted her hair and tunic as well as she could and went to show Jeremiah to his room.
    An aura of joy followed her about now that she knew Derrick wasn’t married. And he wished to court her! Of all the dozens of debutantes he could have chosen, being a commanding and influential senator from Cheyenne, he chose her. Alameda’s very body sang with the jubilance, the anticipation of the coming thrill of courtship. It had been so long since she had met anyone who had remotely intrigued her. She wanted to know everything there was to know about Derrick Spiro.
    Starting with where he was sending a telegram. He insisted they stop off at the Union Pacific telegraph office so he could cable someone on their way to the Oddfellows Hall. Well, perhaps he was cabling someone at the senate chamber in Cheyenne, informing them the status of the snow melt. Alameda’s sister Ivy was on duty and obviously had to read the message as she tapped it out, so Alameda would remember to ask her later.

Chapter Seven
     
    The interior of the Oddfellows Hall had probably never seen such bustle.
    Derrick could barely squirm through the main entry door. He was crammed against the doorjamb by a fellow who felt like The Skeleton Man from the way his bony ribs poked into him. Then he was shoved into the bosom of a woman who could only be The Fat Lady.
    Opera singers tested out the acoustics from the stage, belting out random librettos aimed at different walls and rafters. Musicians tuned creaky violins, and a particularly insistent drummer beat out an ominous rhythm on a bass drum. Above all, performers shouted at each other.
    Someone jammed a mummy between Derrick and Alameda. The fake mummy, wrapped in musty scraps of fabric, nauseated him, and he scrabbled to fling it free. Then Alameda was shoved ass-first nearly into a tuba, and Derrick had to yank her out.
    “This is exciting!” Rudy cried. He grabbed the arm of a passing showman. “Four-Eyed Murphy! Who’s running this show?”
    “Remington Rudy!” Four-Eyed Murphy pointed toward the theater. “Cannonball Donaldson is directing the play, if that’s what you mean.”
    “Cannonball Donaldson?” Rudy gaped. “Why, all he’s ever done is jump off a tightrope and into a vat of water.”
    “While shaped like a