The Third Western Megapack. Johnston McCulley
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nice and warm in winter, and you can sleep late in the mornings. Right now I’m saddled with half a dozen leather-skinned half-breeds. A year or two above stairs and you might say they’ve lost their bloom.” It was the first time I’d seen him smile, and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. He looked at me expectantly, the charoot clamped tightly between his teeth.
I was close enough to Lee that I could feel the angry heat rising off his skin.
“Thanks for the offer, Sheriff, but I’d like to hang on to my bloom a while longer,” I said.
“I can pay you twice what I pay those…”
Lee advanced on him a step or two. “She’s already given you her answer. Isn’t Isadore Dunne capable of doing his own pimping these days?”
“I’m afraid you’re behind the times. Old Izzie is on his way to San Jose. The Last Chance is under new ownership…mine. And in case that son of his decides to raise a stink, I have documentation to back up my claim.”
“That’s news to me,” said Lee. “He told me just last week that he has a new piano arriving by wagon freight. That doesn’t sound like a man who’s about to sell out.”
“Let’s just say he drew a bad hand of poker and leave it at that.” He turned his attention back to me. “You’d be wise to consider my offer while it’s still on the table.” The sheriff reached out and ran a lock of my hair through his fingers. “Gold silk,” he moaned.
I jerked away from him, and Lee pulled me behind him, acting as a protective shield. When I saw him clench his fist, I touched his arm in a cautionary gesture. There’s nothing Longstreet would like better than to gun Lee down in the street and steal his store.
The sheriff flicked his charoot into the dirt. “Looks like you’d rather take up with a dirty Chinaman,” he said. “Too bad his days in Dry Rock are numbered.” He looked as if he was about to walk away, then turned back and picked an egg out of my basket. He rolled it thoughtfully in his hand, then let it drop to the ground with a splat. “Ooops!” he said. “Delicate little things, aren’t they? You know, Susan, the only thing that stands between you and the crib above the saloon is a scrawny chicken and two…make that one…lonely egg.”
He walked away, spurs jangling, sun flashing from the conchos on his hat.
“The man’s a menace,” said Lee. “Are you all right?”
“I will be in a minute. I doubt we’ve seen the last of him, though.”
“He’s the only man I’ve ever known who can strut standing still.”
We shared a good laugh. “You have a fine sense of humor, Mr. Lee.”
“I need a cup of tea. How about you?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
“By the way, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re being watched.”
I turned to see a woman in the second story window of the saloon. Lupita Gomez. I was shocked at her appearance. She’d lost a great deal of weight since Rolf and I left for Lost Horse Creek. The once-beautiful girl pressed her palm against the pane as if to impart a message, then dropped the curtain.
* * * *
Lee put the Out To Lunch sign on the door and pulled the shades against the brutal angle of the sun, casting the room in a soft amber glow. Using the pickle barrel as a table top, we drank jasmine tea and ate almond cookies. Red lanterns with gold tassels hung from the ceiling, and the aroma of exotic spices and perfumed soap and fresh onions hung in the air. We shared a comfortable closeness, made even more meaningful by the introduction of a common adversary.
I admired Lee’s strength of character and calm self-assurance. For the first time since I arrived on the frontier I didn’t feel lonely, abandoned, hungry or cold. The only shadow over my head was Longstreet, but it was a big scary one.
“Lee,” I said. “What do you think really happened to Izzie?”
“The same thing that happened to Lum Tan.”
“Lum Tan? I’m not familiar with the name.”
“Of course, you’re not. He ran the cribs of Chinese girls on the other side of Dry Creek until someone put a bullet in his ear. White Jade was his youngest and most beautiful girl, a painted doll with tiny bound feet, reserved for special clients at a high price. When Lum was murdered, she ran away. She was a girl from a rich family. It was never the life she chose for herself.”
“What happened?”
“The same thing that happens to many girls. They are kidnapped from China, like White Jade was. Others are sold into slavery by poor parents. Most, however, indenture themselves in exchange for passage to America, the place they call Gold Mountain.”
“Indenture themselves for how long?”
“Eight years would not be uncommon, although most of them never see freedom. One sick day adds two weeks of servitude to their contract, a pregnancy a year. If they run away and are captured, they are bound for life, a life which is cut short by disease and mistreatment.”
“I’ve never heard such a terrible story. They wanted the Last Chance and Izzie disappeared. Now, he wants your store. God knows what he’ll do next.”
Lee put down his cup and took both of my hands in his. “I don’t want you to worry about me. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you too.”
* * * *
When I returned to the tent, I kicked off my shoes, let Miss Penny out to forage, and collapsed exhausted on my nest of quilts, the stress of the day having overtaken me. I felt something hard against my hip and tossed back the covers. It was Rolf’s gun…the same crooked barrel…the same loose chamber.
I stepped outside, the hard-packed earth hot on the soles of my feet. I saw nothing unusual…children playing…dogs sleeping in the shade…riders trotting down the street. I glanced up, and Lupita was looking down at me from the second story of the saloon like she had earlier. The petite Mexican girl with the snapping dark eyes was now old and used up before her time, like a once-golden peach sapped of its vital juice.
I lay my hand over my heart to convey friendship, and she returned the gesture, a plaintive smile on her lips. She leaned over the sill and etched the shape of a star in the air. It took a moment to grasp her meaning. The sheriff, the man who wears the star, had killed Rolf and taken the gun that Lupita placed in my tent. I nodded my head. She knew I understood.
Sheriff Longstreet had plenty of gold, although I suppose people like him never have enough. My husband, however, didn’t have enough of anything to warrant a thief making the rugged ride to Lost Horse Creek. What Longstreet wanted was Rolf’s wife, not his gold. The problem is, I’m not the easy pickings he counted on
I was born to stubborn stock who figured they’d already been pushed around enough. Longstreet had always been fascinated by the red-gold color of my hair and my light green eyes, characteristics that are unremarkable among the Irish, but at a premium here in the southwest. Longstreet could charge men twice what he’d get for the average poke, at least until I was as used up as Lupita was.
A dark form appeared behind Lupita. She’s pulled back into the room. The window slammed shut.
I had a lot of suspicions about a lot of things, but I couldn’t take them to the sheriff. Longstreet was the sheriff. That evening I conspired with Lee, and we decided to place the gun in the safe at the assay office. Between the gun and a statement from Lupita, we’d have the beginning of a case.
* * * *
Deep in the night, I woke to the sound of weeping. I pushed the tent flap aside and stepped into a heavy mist that had settled over the town. A large, blurry moon floated over the rooftops, and for once the saloon was quiet, the patrons either passed out or gone home.
A green lantern flickered uncertainly in the access alley