Grace looked down at the wolf. “Kaga, you scaring the locals?”
Jessie smiled as he chirked at his horse. “Don’t think he’s got much choice in the matter. Not every day folk see a wolf strolling down the road.”
Jessie’s gaze wandered from the road to the surroundings. The outskirts of Whitestand Hollow weren’t so much a collection of buildings and businesses as a scattering of shacks and homesteads. It spoke of a poor town ahead, yet a yield of thick crops suggested good farming in the area. The dirt road was in poor condition, potholed and rough. Paul plodded along ponderously and beside him, Crowbait negotiated the rough road with ease. Grace shifted in her saddle, leaned over, and spat on the side of the road. Kaga sniffed a patch of yellow grass as they trotted along and added his scent to the long, willowy stalks.
Jessie glanced up as they cantered beneath an overhanging wooden sign. It was white-washed, and some artisan had cut out wooden letters and nailed them in place. Whitestand Hollow. Jessie scratched his new beard and flicked Paul’s reins. He, for one, was glad they were heading into town. After the better part of two weeks in the saddle and sleeping rough he was looking forward to a proper bed, a jug of washing water, and something to chew other than trail food.
“I’m gonna have me a great fat pork chop and greens. And a whole bottle of fizzy sody water,” Jessie said dreamily.
A smile crept across Grace’s lips, though her voice was cool when she spoke. “This burg mightn’t be as well supplied as Redrock Ridge, Jessie. Mightn’t be they got the fixings you remember from back home.”
Jessie shrugged and peered down the road. As they clopped along the dirt path, buildings appeared in the distance. “Might be they got a good deal more, too. I see a courthouse. Place got a courthouse gotta have a constabulary. And everyone knows bulls like a good meal. Might even have a bakery!”
Grace snorted and shook her head. Jessie stubbornly ignored her pessimism and continued to dream of dancing pork chops and overflowing bottles of clean, crisp soda water as they trotted closer to the looming town.
It turned out Jessie’s evaluation was right. Whitestand Hollow was significantly more of a town than Redrock Ridge had ever been. As well as a courthouse, Whitestand boasted a general store, bank, saloon, two bunkhouses, smith, church, lawyer and assay offices, barber, bakery, and even a bed-house. Jessie’s eyes were agog as they rode past the brothel and the ladies leaned down from the upper balconies, catcalling and flashing their flesh at him. He didn’t realize his hands had slackened on Paul’s reins until Grace, grinning, leaned over and snapped her fingers under his nose.
Jessie started and swung around, his face burning. “I...ah... I—” he stammered.
Grace chuckled. “There’ll be plenty of time later for you to dip your wick. C’mon, let’s cut off the main street. Folk are starting to stare, and I don’t want a run-in with the local bulls.”
Jessie scanned the street. He saw furtive glances and open-mouthed stares thrown their way before folk hurried inside and slammed doors and closed shutters. Jessie frowned, then remembered Kaga padding alongside them. A rangy gray tomcat basked in the sun. It leaped to its feet and hissed for all it was worth as the wolf passed. Kaga eyed the cat but made no move toward it. Jessie glanced at Grace to see if she was concerned by the hostile faces of the townsfolk. She trotted along, and her dark eyes roved over shops and townsfolk as though they were nothing to her.
Jessie shivered despite the heat. Sometimes Grace gave him the willies.
They rambled off the main street and took to the back trenches.
“You want to hitch the horses and go on foot?” Jessie asked.
Grace shook her head. “Nope. Gotta ride some ways yet. The kind of bunkhouse we can afford won’t be in the middle of town.”
Jessie sighed and slumped in the saddle. He’d seen a quaint bunkhouse—Gertie’s—a short distance back. The white-washed boards and trimmed garden promised a comfortable stay. He imagined it was stocked with thick pork steaks and cases of soda water.
“Saw a bunkhouse back aways. We could check it out,” Jessie said.
Grace gave Jessie a lingering stare. A small smile twitched the corner of her lips. She reined in and swatted a fly in front of her face. “Alright. We try your fancy bunkhouse first. But no fears, Jessie—you’re like to get a rude shock.”
Grace yanked the reins and wheeled Crowbait around. As Jessie followed her, he puzzled on her words. A rude shock? Just how much could a bunkhouse be in a burg like Whitestand Hollow?
In the end, Gertie’s Bunkhouse had indeed been too expensive for Jessie and Grace to take up lodgings. When the gruff Austrian had said, “My rooms are clean. There’s no lice in the beds, and breakfast and supper are included daily,” Jessie had nearly wept in delight. But when the ma’am had demanded four dollars apiece per week and two extra for the wolf, Grace had flatly refused. The look on Gertie’s face suggested the Austrian had inflated her prices to turn away the perceived rabble element.
Grace hadn’t let the woman’s attitude thwart them. She’d slipped into the local gunsmith’s shop, with Jessie in tow, to ask about cheap lodgings. The fellow had keenly pointed out Madame Beulah’s Come and Go Cathouse, where rooms could be had for as little as fifty cents a night. When he’d implied that Jessie might even make a little coin on the side if he let his woman work a john or two, the deep growl in Kaga’s throat had checked the gunsmith of all amusement.
When Grace and Jessie, with Kaga on their heels, had stopped in at Madame Beulah’s, the girls of the line had been delighted by the odd trio. After some initial nervous head pats went without incident, Kaga was fussed and cuddled, and Jessie was swarmed by a bevy of buxom painted women the moment Grace left his side to talk turkey with Madame Beulah, who loudly demanded to be called Madame B.
At first Jessie listened to Grace as she declared they’d part with five dollars at the end of the week for her room, Jessie’s room, corral for the horses, and no questions asked. When Madame B. demurred on the price, Jessie lost interest, though that could have been more to do with the four girls pawing at him rather than the matter of hard tin passing from hand to hand. One girl had her hands inside his vest, another tugged his arm to get him to go with her, a third whispered in his ear and nibbled his earlobe, while the fourth raked her long-nailed fingers through his hair while her free hand squeezed his butt. Jessie’s eyes were half-closed, his breeches swollen, and saliva bubbled on his lips. He was rudely jolted out of his pleasurable fugue state by a not-so-subtle cough.
Grace arched an eyebrow as she stood before him, hands planted on her hips. A wry smile crossed her lips. “Alright, you floozies. Get off him. You can have your fun later.”
The whores cast Grace scathing glares but obeyed her nonetheless. Jessie jerked as they retreated and felt his cheeks heat up as Grace stared at him.
“So, you ah, got us a room then?”
Grace nodded and grinned. “And one that don’t even come with slatterns. Though I’m sure for an extra dollar Madame B. would hook you up.”
Jessie’s embarrassment deepened. “I ain’t paying for no...for—I ain’t paying for it!”
Grace shrugged. “Why not? Could do a lot worse. These girls look clean enough and they won’t be stealing from a boarder neither.” She took a step closer to Jessie. “Whores are best for your first time, Jessie. They don’t have expectations. Pop your top too early and they won’t mind. Better to get it done first time with a whore than with a girl you fancy.”
Jessie felt hot from his chest to the very tips of his ears. He looked at Grace, mortified that she would discuss this topic so casually, and was absolutely destroyed to his very core that she suspected he was still a virgin. It didn’t matter that he was still a virgin; it mattered that she knew it.
“I’m gonna go check out the general store,” Jessie choked and pushed past Grace before she could see the hot tears welling in his eyes. He crashed out through the brothel doors without a backward glance.
A single tear slid down Jessie’s cheek and he angrily scrubbed it away with the heel of his hand. It was obvious that Grace had no inkling of the feelings he’d been nursing since the moment he first saw her stride in through the doors of the Bad Hoss Saloon. It had started out as awed fascination of her no-nonsense handling of Lee “Lonesome” Roberts and clinical execution of Ina Maddox. Then, as he spent more time with her, he’d seen her funny side, her dry wit, the sly smirk when she thought no one was watching. And gradually he’d come to know her vulnerable side. When she’d told him the story of the Darksome Gunman and when she’d faced off against the man himself at Sandycrag Creek, he’d seen Grace at her most defenseless. There was no denying it. Jessie was in love with Grace. He loved her hard, lean beauty, her sweaty leather bouquet with the undercurrent of myrrh. Her loud, blunt words and, at times, her cold brutality. And she had no idea of his feelings. She barely even knew he existed.
“To blazes with it all!” Jessie cried and kicked a hitching post. His toes exploded in pain and he staggered against the surge of heat that raced up his leg and into his spine. He leaned against the post he’d kicked and closed his eyes. The pain of his broken ribs had only this week abated, and now he’d gone and busted his toe. He felt something cold and wet press against his dangling hand and he spun around. Kaga stood by his side and watched him with his yellow eyes. Jessie’s breath whooshed out of his lungs and he hunkered down on one knee and grabbed the wolf’s ruff. He pulled Kaga into an embrace. “Bet you’ve done your fair share of crying over that woman, ain’t you?”
Kaga rumbled and pulled his head out of Jessie’s arms. He strained his neck and licked the lad’s tear-streaked face.
Jessie grinned. “Gaw, hope that don’t make us dandies or nothing. Gonna be right queer next time I look you in the eye when you’re walking on two legs instead of four.” Jessie sighed. “Can we just keep this between each other?”
Kaga blinked and rumbled again. Jessie had to be satisfied that was a promise. He stood up and tried out his foot. The moment his bruised toe rubbed against his boot, agony ripped through him.
“Consarnit!” he cried and hobbled about on the dusty road.
“Mayhaps you broke a toe when you kicked that post, mister.”
Jessie spun around, ready to cuss the wiseass up and down, but when he laid eyes on her the words evaporated on his tongue. She wore a pale blue, checked dress over a large bustle. Frothy ivory lace sprang from her cuffs and collar and highlighted the milk-pale skin of her throat. The hair peeking out from her bonnet was the color of roasted chestnuts, and she had wide-spaced blue eyes that were fixed on him.
Jessie smiled sheepishly. “Oh...you saw that? I was just...” He had no good answer to give her.
The woman smiled and shifted the basket on her arm. “I didn’t mean to pry, understand, it’s just that I have some experience with broken bones and thought I might be able to help.”
Jessie frowned. “Nah, I’m fine, surely.” His words were proven false the very next second when he put his weight down on his foot. He hopped about, hissed in pain, and cussed. Kaga watched the entire exchange with a nonplussed gaze.
The young woman moved forward and took Jessie’s arm to steady him. “Keep it in the air, don’t put any weight on it!”
Jessie looked at her clean pink face and was suddenly aware of how close she stood. He swallowed and said, “I thank you, ma’am, but I best be getting back.”
“Nonsense! Not till I see what damage you’ve done,” she admonished.
Jessie blushed. “You want to take a look at my foot? Why?”
She smiled shyly. “Might be I can help.”
“How’s that? You got the healing touch of the Lord or something?”
She shook her head. “Lord no. But my pa is the apothecary and I picked up one or two things from him.”
Jessie frowned and glanced at Kaga. The young woman followed his gaze and bit her lip. “Um, your dog can come along too.” She was likely terrified of Kaga but was brave enough to make the offer because she was concerned about his wellbeing. It was a refreshing change of pace.
Jessie smiled at the young woman. “Be glad to, ma’am. Name’s Jessie Beck.”
“Bess. Bess Porter. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister Beck.”
“Likewise,” Jessie said. And he meant it.
Jessie strode into Madame Beulah’s with a little more swagger in his step, followed by the silent Kaga. Jessie was about to mount the stairs to their rooms when he heard raucous laughter coming from the bar. He hesitated and poked his head into the saloon to size things up. A congregation of whoremongers gathered around two figures sitting at the bar. Through the shifting throng of bodies, Jessie saw a yellowing shirt and dirty-blond hair. His heart, which had been jutting along at a nice little rhythm, suddenly plunged into his stomach.
“Lord’s sake! What’s she doing now?”
As Jessie moved past the empty tables and chairs toward the gathered throng, a slattern reached out and grabbed his arm. “Can you get that cuss out of here? She’s taking away all the johnnies!”
Jessie wrenched his arm free and glared at the painted lady. He continued on until he reached the gathering of men. He stared at a miner’s broad back and wondered how he’d push through the crowd to get to Grace. Suddenly a roar and cheer went up and Jessie heard the thump of thick glass on wood. He tried to shove between the miner and a heavyset, well-groomed man, but they ignored him.
“Fellas, step aside!” Jessie said in his sternest tone. No one paid him any notice, and his next try was drowned out by another cheer. He glanced about helplessly. All he got from the ladies of the line were nasty looks and attitude. Jessie was about to pull out his Colt and demand to get past when he felt pressure against his thigh. He looked down and smiled as Kaga nosed between the two johns. The miner grunted and looked down with a scowl across his hairy brow. As soon as he noticed the black wolf beside him, he yelped and staggered to the side. Jessie grinned and followed in Kaga’s wake as the wolf cut a path through the throng. As one large cheering man rapidly sidestepped, Jessie’s view opened up and he saw Grace perched on a bar stool facing down a large, unkempt miner. There were close to two dozen upended shot glasses on the counter beside them.
Grace flicked a long blond strand over her shoulder and picked up a glass of clear liquid between her thumb and forefinger. Her cheeks were flushed, but she sat on her stool like a rock; her legs apart, hips thrust forward, and back slouched against the counter. She raised the glass to the crowd, then tossed the contents down her throat. In a smooth motion, she upended the empty glass and slammed it down on the bar. A cheer went up again.
Jessie glanced at Grace’s opponent and he sucked in a small breath at the man’s pallor. He was pale and swayed on his stool. His breathing was irregular, either coming in gasps or not at all. He reached out for another shot glass and his trembling fingers knocked over the empties. Jessie flicked his gaze to Grace and he frowned as she smiled that sly smile of hers. Jessie turned back to the man as he lifted the glass with a shaking hand and raised it to his lips. The glass suddenly slipped from his fingers and spilled down his body and shattered on the floor. The man gave an inarticulate gurgle, slumped sideways, and fell off his stool. As he crashed to the floor a resounding cheer went up, and Grace spread her arms wide. The johns shook their heads as they cavorted and clapped her on the back. Jessie frowned at Grace when she turned and caught sight of him in the crowd. She licked her lips and waved him over. She scooped up a fat purse.
“I’ll take your coin! Those of you stupid enough to bet against me! And those who made a penny, there’s plenty of coney to spend it on!” Grace called out and set off a fresh wave of caterwauling.
After a moment, the crowd began to thin as the johns sought new entertainment. No one bothered to check on the man slumped by the side of the bar.
Jessie approached Grace and scowled. “What in the good Lord’s sake was all that about?”
Jessie looked over at the “dang fool” and frowned. “Is he...?”
Grace shrugged and tipped back the last shot. She sucked a breath over her teeth. “Man was a varmint. Madame B. reckoned not a day went by when one of her girls didn’t wear a black eye or sport a busted lip on account of his fists. Can’t abide a man who takes to a woman with his fists.”
Jessie’s throat was dry, and he couldn’t disregard the fallen man. Grace reached out and grabbed his chin. She twisted his face toward her, and he found himself swimming in her dark gaze. “Don’t sweat it, Jessie. Besides, I got us the skinny on Buzzard’s Ford. Gonna cut out in the morning and take a peep. You with me?”
Jessie swallowed and nodded. Grace smiled and threw the coin purse in the air. Jessie dove for it before it could spill on the floor.
Grace grinned. “Keep it dry, Jessie.” She smacked him hard on the arm, slid off her stool, and absently patted Kaga on the head as she brushed past. Jessie limped along behind her.
“Where’d you get to anyways?” Grace called over her shoulder.
Jessie thought of the quaint little apothecary shop with its peace and quiet and pleasant aroma. He thought of Mister Porter, the bespectacled owner, and his sweet apple-pie daughter, Bess. Then he gazed around the bawdy vaulting house with its dirty clientele and loose women. Its bug juice and firewater, and roaches skittering across the boards. He turned and focused on Grace, who paused on the first step and fixed her charcoal eyes on his.
Guns of Perdition Page 8
