Page 61 of The Banker's Bride

He patted her hand as he led her down a street, then turned a corner and crossed another street to the other side. Dallas was quite familiar with Laramie, having come to town on business often. A few paces later, they were standing before the steakhouse with huge plate-glass windows stretched across the front.

“Good afternoon.” A gentleman with a well-kept, big mustache greeted them at the door, menus in hand. “A table for two?”

“Yes, please,” Dallas replied, taking off his hat.

The man gave them a slight bow. “Right this way.”

Dallas and Megan followed him to a secluded table at the back of the restaurant and laid two menus on the table. Dallas held her chair. After she was seated, he took the seat across from her.

“Your waiter will be right with you. Enjoy!” The man headed back to the front to greet another couple.

Megan looked around the room, taking in the ambiance. “This is lovely.”

Dallas gently squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you like it. Is it anything like the restaurants you went to in New York?”

She shook her head. “No, Liam and I cooked at home.” A faraway look came into her eyes. “Liam would go out at night to fight sometimes. He was a boxer.”

Dallas’s eyebrows rose nearly into his hairline. “A boxer? Did he fight for purses?”

She nodded, smiling proudly. “Yes, of course. He worked on the bridge during the day, but he boxed at night when there was a fight offering a large purse.”

Dallas nodded, realizing what a privileged life he had led of late. “Which bridge?”

Megan sighed. “Have ye heard of the new Brooklyn Bridge they’re building?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to be a monument of engineering accomplishment when it’s completed.”

She smiled, her eyes filled with emotion. “Me brother was helping to build it before he died.”

Dallas held her hand, his heart going out to her as guilt filled his chest. Megan had come from nothing just as he had, but she never complained. She had accepted her past and loved her family, knowing that they had done the best they could with what they had.

“Good afternoon! May I start you off with some red wine this evening?” A waiter, wearing a white, high-collared dress shirt and black trousers, showed them both a bottle of wine.

Dallas glanced over at Megan, and she nodded. “Yes. Two glasses, please.”

The waiter poured the wine in elegant glasses that were already setting on the table. “Are you ready to order?”

Dallas looked at Megan again and she nodded as a smile appeared on her lips. “Two T-bone steaks, please. I told my wife how wonderful your steaks are, so we had to come.”

“Wonderful! I promise you won't be disappointed!” The waiter happily clasped his hands. “I shall have that out momentarily.” He headed toward the kitchen.

“I hope you don’t mind me ordering for you, but the T-bones here are wonderful.”

Megan shook her head, patting his hand. “No, that’s fine. Ye’ve been here before and know what’s good.”

Dallas smiled, but his smile quickly faded when he glanced toward the front door. For standing in the foyer was Frank, one of the gang members from Whiskey River. His men had hollered it enough that he knew the names of some of the men.

Dallas didn’t dare tell Megan, not wanting to upset her. They couldn’t leave without drawing attention to themselves, so Dallas rationalized that the best thing to do was to stay there and to try to enjoy their afternoon. He just hoped that Frank hadn’t followed them to Laramie.

“Good afternoon, sir. Would you like to be seated?” the maître d’ asked Frank.

“No. I’m just looking for someone. I’ll be out of here in a minute. That’s all it’ll take.” He laughed at his own joke, holding his hands out to his sides over his guns, attracting the attention of all the respectable patrons.

The maître d’ gulped. “Sir, we don’t want any trouble. Please leave.”

“Why, I’ve never been treated so badly!” he yelled, indignant as he looked around the room, drawing everyone's attention. Dallas was surprised that Frank just didn’t go to the Bucket of Blood Saloon instead. But it was obvious that Frank was looking for him.

“Megan, go to the back of the restaurant, in the kitchen if you have to, and don’t come out until I come and get you,” Dallas said, his voice low.

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