The Third Western Megapack. Johnston McCulley
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of the boys, who ran off in the direction of Dry Creek.
The second boy led Old Tom down the street to the livery stable. The third boy found a wheelbarrow behind the store and moved my possessions into one of the back rooms. In front of the Last Chance, Longstreet stood shoulder to shoulder with Squareface. They were watching me, smiling and whispering conspiratorially behind their cigarettes. Longstreet pointed a finger at me as if he were siting a deer in a rifle scope.
Squarehead grabbed his own throat, tilted his head toward his shoulder and let his tongue dangle from his mouth. A man on the second floor of the saloon appeared at the window. He pulled out a knife and began sawing at the rope that suspended Lupita in mid-air. The rope gave way and her body landed with a thud on the ground. I felt dizzy and sick to my stomach.
“Don’t let them spook you, Susan. Be brave. They want to see you crumble,” said Lee. “Come inside.” He put his hand at my waist and guided me toward the store. I stood straight with my shoulders back, but I thought my knees would collapse at any moment.
Once inside, Lee caught me as I fell and carried me into the back room where the piano was stored. There was a large safe against the wall and several boxes of merchandise. He laid me on a cot at the foot of the safe, smoothed my hair back from my face, and covered me with a light quilt.
Lee left but soon returned with a small bottle of emerald green liquid from his apothecary.
“Here, drink this.”
“If you help me, he’ll get back at you. He’ll kill you or burn down the store.”
“I don’t think so. If the store goes, the whole town goes. There’s not enough water in this town to tame a glass of whiskey, let alone put out a fire. Longstreet is crazy, but not that crazy. Now, drink this,” he said, holding up the sparkling green liquid.
“What is it? It looks like absinthe.”
“It has a long Chinese name. It translates to, Sleep Like Death.”
“You must be joking.”
“Why don’t I put it on top of the safe. It’s effective but harmless. They give it to children”
I was so exhausted I couldn’t raise my head. As I dozed off, I heard footsteps coming from the living quarters above my head. Lee might not have a wife, but he certainly had a secret that he kept in the rooms above the store.
* * * *
It was dark beyond the window when I woke to the murmur of voices. Lee, Jasper, and Alvie entered the room.
“Feeling better?’ asked Lee, coming to my side.
“Much better, thank you,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing my skirt. “Hello Alvie. I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
“Thank you, ma’am. At least we got him back home where he belongs.”
Alvie was only twenty-three and not the biggest pup in the litter, but he had a good head for business and grew up in the saloon at his father’s elbow.
The men began ripping into the piano crate with claw hammers and crowbars until the lid was off and the piano was out.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to move it when it’s in the box?” I asked.
“There’s method to our madness,” said Jasper. “The trick is getting Longstreet over here.”
“You mean to the store?” I said.
“Yup, that’s the idea. Once he’s here, we’re going to jump him.”
I considered that for a moment. “I can get him here.”
“You?” said Lee. “I don’t want you in the middle of this mess.”
I rose from the cot and neatened my hair. I hadn’t come all the way from Ireland and across the Great Plains to be defeated at the end of my journey.
“I’ve been in the middle since the beginning, Lee. I’ve earned the right to be part of this. Now, air out the smoke and blow out the lanterns. We’ll never get him here unless he thinks I’m alone.”
* * * *
I carried my lantern through the windy, moonless night. The first chill of autumn was in the air. When I entered the saloon, every man who wasn’t too drunk to find his head, removed his hat, not unusual in a town where there was one woman to every two hundred men. The saloon was uncharacteristically still, men slumped over their drinks, the Mexicans and half-breeds subdued and red-eyed. Lum Tan’s girls, some with bruises and black eyes, were huddled together near the stairs.
Longstreet pushed back from the poker table and strode toward me, spurs jangling, eyes cold as stone, with an expectant glint of lust in their depths. I spoke before he had a chance to open his mouth.
“Awfully quiet for a Saturday night,” I said. “Funny, how a murdered whore can put a damper on things, not to mention the bullets you pumped into Izzie Dunne and my husband Rolf.”
He glanced at his customers, who were suddenly coming out of their stupors to listen.
“She’s over-emotional,” he said. “Turn around and enjoy your drinks.”
No one turned around. No one was enjoying their drinks. They were all looking at me.
“You’d better watch your mouth in my establishment,” he said, muscles flexing dangerously in his jaw.
A customer gave Longstreet a venomous stare and walked out. Two more men abandoned their unfinished drinks and followed suit.
“You come here to start trouble?” he said, or to fill the recent vacancy. My generous offer still stands.”
“We’ll see what happens when winter comes,” I said, dangling the carrot. “Right now I’m not that desperate. In the meantime, I have a message from Alvie Dunne.”
“He might as well get it through his head that he has no ownership in the Last Chance.”
“He realizes that, and he’s ready to give up the piano. Every classy saloon this side of the Mississippi has a piano. You can pick it up tonight from the back of Lee’s store.”
“What’s the catch?”
“You need to pick it up before Lee returns from Dry Creek. You have thirty seconds to decide, then I’m leaving.”
“I want the Bill of Lading.”
I removed it from my pocket, unfolded it, and handed it over. Longstreet motioned to Squarehead, who was watching us from the bar. He sat his drink down and lumbered over.
“Let’s go, Greig,” said Longstreet. “We have a piano to move.”
* * * *
The wind was moaning around the corner of the building when we entered through the back of the store, and I could feel the first cold breath of winter in the air.
“There’s the piano,” I said. “The crate stays.”
“Looks like she’s shacking up with the Chinaman,” said Greig, looking at the cot.
Longstreet laughed. “I’ve never stood in line behind a Chinaman before.”
I stuck to our plan, refused to let him get under my skin.
“There’s a dolly in the storage room. Out the back door to your left. I expect it back here first thing in the morning.”
“Get it,” said Longstreet to his lacky. He smiled to himself. “Take your time.”
Greig left the room with a smirk on his face. Longstreet drew a bead on the safe and noticed the emerald liquid on top of it. Golden lights from my lantern danced along the rim of the glass.
“Open the safe,” he said.
I set the lantern down on a stack