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the threat in Dutch’s voice. A guilty conscience needed no accuser.
    “Be satisfied with this, Dutch. My intentions don’t matter. I settled the question of Maggie marrying anyone.”
    Slapping his boss’s back, Dutch poured his drink for him and even handed McCready the glass. “I knew you’d do the right thing and tell her the truth. Maggie’s smart enough to understand.” Tipping his own glass in salute, Dutch neatly downed his drink. Lowering the glass to the bar, he glanced at McCready’s untouched glass. “You did tell her the truth?”
    “Did you know that telling the truth shames the devil?”
    “What are you saying?” Dutch’s meaty hands curled into fists.
    “Well, my friend, there are those who will say that the truth may be blamed but cannot ever be shamed.”
    “The last time you got to recalling that fancy learning of yours was the night we got run out of Virginia City.”
    “A ways back. But a most pleasant memory.”
    “Hamilton Baker didn’t think so. You took him for almost thirty thousand on the turn of one card. Couldn’t blame the man for raising the question of where that ace came from, either. You were mighty clumsy in those days.”
    Thinking of the hurt in Maggie’s eyes, McCready knew he was still clumsy.
    “Seems to me,” Dutch went on, unaware, “that every time one of your schemes starts skidding the wrong way, you get to pulling out those confounded sayings.”
    Grinning, McCready faced him. “It was a most memorable night, Dutch.” But under the man’s steady regard, his grin faltered, then died. “Almost as good as the night we met in New York and—”
    “Never mind trying to lead me down that false trail. Pete was my friend, too. I made him the same promise that you did to take care of Maggie and watch out for her. So, I’m asking you once more, Mr. McCready. If you’ve done something to hurt that gal, best be telling me now.”
    He couldn’t continue to meet Dutch’s gaze. Looking heavenward, and knowing there was no answer forthcoming, McCready sighed. “Dutch, I told Maggie that as her legal guardian, Pete married her off by proxy before he died.”
    “That must have jury-rigged her sails just fine.” But gazing at his boss revealed one unhappy-looking man. “It can’t be bothering you that Maggie hates you a bit more?”
    With a serious tone McCready admitted, “Actually, it does. And you’re right. She did look pretty all dressed up like a woman.”
    Dutch found himself stepping away from the bar. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the lust, as pure as the gold from Mohawk Pete’s first claim, that was wrapped around the last words McCready spoke. He took the measure of a man whom he topped by a few inches and outweighed by a good seventy pounds. Something told him he was going to regret pushing McCready into telling him the truth. But he wasn’t a man who would run from knowing.
    “Now, what would a man like you be wanting with Maggie when you have Cora Ann and that new songbird, Rose, to be fighting over who spends the night with you? You don’t need Maggie. You don’t want Maggie.” Dutch stopped. In his mind he once again heard McCready’s earlier confession. He told Maggie that Pete married her off by proxy. Dutch reverted to a string of blue curses learned on the New York docks. When he was done, he took a deep cleansing breath, released it, then asked, “Who did you say Maggie was married to?”
    “You don’t want to know.” McCready turned and rested both elbows on the bar. He knew that Dutch wouldn’t let it be. He was deliberately allowing himself to be vulnerable. Perhaps he should renegotiate the deal with his conscience. Sure enough, the big man lumbered out from behind the bar to plant himself in front of McCready. But he had to give it one last try.
    “Dutch, we’ve been friends for almost ten years. We’ve been in some rough spots and had a few narrow escapes. But there’s been times when we’ve had—”
    “I