The Temptress (Montgomery/Taggert 8)

Chris tried to answer all of them at once. All the while she was waiting to hear what she’d come to find out.

“I’m sure that it’s none of our business but we think you should look more carefully to your traveling companions,” said one woman with her nose in the air.

There was a hush on the crowd. “Oh?” Chris said with all the innocence she could muster. “They seem like such nice men.”

“Perhaps one of them is but that Tynan…” The women looked at each other and were silent.

Chris modestly studied her hands. “I really know so little about him.”

The women began to fall all over themselves in their rush to tell her all that they knew about the man—which, unfortunately, wasn’t much. Tynan had been arrested for murder, tried the same afternoon and sentenced to hang that night.

“That seems awfully quick,” Chris said.

“It was an open and shut case. He was guilty, everyone could see that.”

“But he went to jail instead,” Chris prompted.

The women exchanged looks. “During the night, some of the men decided not to wait to hang him—not that I believe in that sort of thing—but the way they rescued him, well…”

Chris waited patiently.

One of the women leaned forward in conspiracy. “The ah, ah…”

“What Ellen’s trying to say is that the harlots of this town banded together and, carrying rifles, they protected this Mr. Tynan until the federal marshal could get here.”

“They also demanded a new trial and the marshal said there wasn’t any proof that he’d actually fired the gun that had killed the man—there were lots of guns being fired that day—so the marshal gave him life imprisonment instead of hanging.”

Chris took a deep breath. “Who is the red-haired woman?”

The women stiffened, showing their goodness and virtue. “Just one of them. That Tynan stays in her saloon when he’s in town.”

“He really can be very nice,” said a pretty young girl at the back of the group.

A woman who had to be the girl’s mother looked shocked. She turned to Chris. “Some of the girls here have no sense. He’s a no-good waster, travels around and makes the girls fall in love with him, then leaves them crying. You’re best to stay away from the likes of him, Miss Dallas.”

Chris moved toward the door. “I can’t thank you ladies enough for telling me this, but now I have a story to research.” She looked at the women and smiled. “I’ve always wanted to know what the inside of a house of prostitution looks like, haven’t you?”

For a moment, the women were too stunned to speak, but they considered Chris to be one of them. They’d read her articles for years and they felt as if they knew her.

“Yes,” one of the women in the back sighed and the others began to laugh.

“Wish me luck,” she called over her shoulder as she left the dress shop and made her way to the red-haired woman’s saloon. Behind her, she heard murmurs of how brave she was.

There were only two cowboys in the saloon when she entered, sitting at a table listlessly playing cards. A big, aproned bartender was sweeping the floor.

“I’m looking for someone, a tall woman with red hair,” Chris said. “Is she here?”

“Not to ladies, she ain’t.”

“Joe,” came a voice from the head of the stairs and Chris looked up to see the red-haired woman. “This here little lady is Nola Dallas, the one that dressed up as a showgirl, remember?”

The faces of the bartender and the two cowboys changed as they looked at Chris. “Come on up,” the woman called and Chris went up the stairs.

The woman led her to a large room that was very pretty if a bit loud in color for Chris’s taste.

“I’m Red,” the woman said, motioning Chris to a horsehair sofa. “You wanta drink? I ain’t got any tea.”

“Red?” Chris asked.