Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “You think I have a choice? Couillon! Do you know what he would do to me if I were to defy him?”
“Kill you?” Jessie asked.
Ruby snorted. “Worse.”
Jessie frowned. What was worse than death?
Grace sighed and said, “He’d set you on your back again. Take away the position of madame and make you...fare lamor? Am I right?”
The bourbon in Ruby’s glass sloshed over the sides as she trembled. She lowered her glistening eyes and said, “How do you know him so well?”
Jessie glanced over his shoulder at Grace. Her expression was tight when she stepped forward. In typical Grace fashion, she outlined her history with the Darksome Gunman in rapid, economical words. Tokota took up the thread when Grace had finished and wove his own tapestry, ending with the war at Whitestand Hollow and Enapay’s death. Jessie noticed he used the same hollow intonation Ruby had used when describing her family’s murder when he spoke of Enapay. The native man, it seemed, was already trying to wall off that hurt in a deep, untouchable place inside his heart.
Ruby leaned back in her chair and rubbed her face. “Ga lee! How is it possible such a man exists? M’su Diable! What does he want?”
“I don’t rightly know, but you got a part to play in whatever it is, Ruby,” Grace answered.
Ruby frowned and shook her head. “No, I already told you. I cannot defy him.”
Jessie leaned forward across the table and took Ruby’s small hand in his. He could feel her trembling with terror. “Can you really just sit here in this place of...sin, and continue to let them things feed on good men? Can you really just sit here under his bootheel and not try to stop him?”
Ruby met Jessie’s eyes, and he could see horrible fascination in her gaze. Terror, frozen fear...and the tiniest sliver of hope.
“It don’t matter if she chooses to stay under his bootheel; the goings on in this here brothel cain’t be allowed to continue,” Grace said.
Ruby lowered her eyes to her drink.
Tokota nodded and scratched his chin. “Grace is right. These things prey on men and cannot be allowed to live. They are like a nest of rattlesnakes. Tempting the foolish, then poisoning him with their bite.”
“So what? We run around, guns blazing, and beef them all?” Jessie asked.
Ruby pushed the bourbon away. “Ha! It’s not that easy. When riled, the girls become...nasty.”
“Just how nasty can a bunch of mauks be?” Grace muttered.
Ruby shook her head, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “They are not mere mauks, beb. They’re not even human. I’ve only seen their true nature once when I thought to run away.” Ruby shuddered and drew her feathered robe around her shoulders. “They came after me...and not on foot or horseback. They winged their way to me and dragged me back with their claws.”
A tense silence fell over the group as they considered Ruby’s words.
Grace clicked her tongue. “Right, so we don’t want to fight them.” She looked up and a twisted smile touched her lips. “We burn the whole goddamn place down around them.”
Jessie shook his head. “But what’s to stop them flying out through a window as the place starts going up?”
“Cukas ke,” Tokota rumbled. All three turned to the native man, who nodded soberly. “My people know powerful warding charms. I can carve a charm into the walls of the building. They will not be able to leave.”
Jessie glanced at Ruby. “Will it work?”
Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know. But to even attempt such a thing, you’d better wait till the witching hours.”
“The witching hours?”
“The hours of the morning when darkness has bathed the land in an indigo blanket and dawn seems so very far away. The hours when old things rise from their graves and cavort beneath the stars. The hours when fresh milk curdles, dreams turn to nightmares, and babes cry in their cribs. These are the only hours the girls sleep,” Ruby said softly.
Jessie shivered at her narrative. “Like now. I ain’t seen one of them girls since waking up.”
“Weh,” Ruby agreed. “They sleep for now, but they’ll wake soon. You must come back tonight. There is hardly enough time to make your warding now.”
“Does that mean you’re gonna help?” Jessie asked in a small voice.
“Right, how do we know you ain’t gonna let on what’s gonna go down to the girls...or your benefactor?” Grace snarled.
Ruby’s fists clenched and she brushed the half-full bourbon glass away with her forearm. Her eyes narrowed, though her lower lip shuddered. “I cannot turn a blind eye anymore. It’s time I rose up off my knees.”
Jessie reached out and squeezed her hand. He had no words to offer her.
Ruby cast the lad a quick glance, then returned her emerald stare to Grace.
Grace eyed the madame for a long moment. She rolled her neck and said, “Alright. Then until we get back, keep your head down and don’t do anything to rouse suspicion.”
Ruby inclined her head. “I know how to act, beb.”
Grace sneered and shook her head. “Right. Got an awful lot of stuff to take care of before we let off the fireworks. We’ll head on back to the bunkhouse to prepare.”
Ruby frowned. “There is one more thing. The menfolk in Temerity. If they unearth what you plan to do, they’ll rise up and fight you.”
“Then we’ll be real quiet about what we’re planning to do.”
Jessie shook his head. “No, Ruby’s right. They will find out. Remember out front last night? The place was practically crawling with menfolk.”
Grace shrugged.
Jessie frowned at her. “It ain’t their fault, Grace. They cain’t burn with the place just because they’re messed up in the head.”
Grace sighed. “Alright. We’ll set a watch out front of the brothel before the sun sinks. Any man trying to enter will be encouraged to go home. With a bullet in his leg if necessary.”
Jessie winced but had to be satisfied. At least she’d agreed not to burn alive half the town’s population. Grace jerked her head, and Tokota left his place by the window and walked to the door. Jessie gave Ruby a tight smile and followed the native man. He hesitated at the door, waiting for Grace.
Grace cast her dark eyes over Ruby. “You know the Darksome Gunman’s gonna be wrathy with you once you done this. You won’t wanna stay here under his bootheel no more.”
Ruby frowned and inclined her head.
Grace licked her lips. “My whole purpose in life is to track down that sonuvabitch and end him. You want in on this, you just gotta say the word.”
Ruby nodded but said nothing.
Grace returned her nod and headed out onto the landing, Jessie two steps behind her.
“Grace...” Jessie said. She didn’t pause at his voice and strode to the stairs. Jessie snagged her arm and pulled her up. Grace shook him off but remained by his side.
“Grace I... I cain’t find the words. To...to apologize for everything—”
“Jessie, how’d you know about squeezing your hand to get rid of the venom?” Grace asked quietly.
Jessie blinked. He frowned as he recalled a hazy dream and waking up in that dark room with the toxin pumping through his veins. He shook his head. “Cain’t rightly say, it just seemed to come to me.”
Grace nodded, apparently satisfied. Her eyes were cool when they fixed on him.
“Gotta get back to the bunkhouse. Got a wounded man to tend to.”
As Grace pushed past him, Jessie’s stomach plummeted. That nauseating mix of grief, guilt, and resentment reared up to clutch his guts and churn and twist until he retched.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
There were few folk in the streets as Crowbait, laden with a haycart, clopped down the main street of Temerity. Those who were out barely batted an eyelid as the group passed. Even the sight of the armed riders accompanying the horse and cart didn’t warrant more than a cursory glance. Jessie knew this was a sign of the t
errible corruption that plagued Temerity. In no town should he and his companions expect to ride through the main street armed to the teeth, with two native warriors in their party, and not receive even a curious look or two.
Jessie clucked at Paul as the gelding trotted down the main street beside Tokota’s russet stallion, Uzeblikblik. His eyes roved the streets, but there was no malice from the few townsfolk who watched them with stony eyes. He wondered if that might change when they camped outside La Chatte Affamee.
The darkest hours were coming. The witching hours. A few men roamed, most likely those who had slaked their lust at Ruby’s and were headed home to their cold, lonely wives. Jessie wondered if there would be a crowd out front of La Chatte Affamee, or whether with the departure of the girls to their rooms, the men too had slunk away into the night. He kept his hand pressed against the Colt as they rounded a bend and came within view of the grand brothel. The front porch was empty. The same went for the sprawling, lush grounds.
La Chatte Affamee was closed down for the witching hours.
Grace rode Crowbait up to the grounds, then urged the ashen mare onto the dewy green grass. She drew Crowbait to a stop only when the cart blocked the path to the brothel. Tokota rode Uzeblikblik up to Crowbait’s side and slid from the saddle as the two horses nickered at one another. He retrieved a bundle from Uzeblikblik’s saddle and hefted it onto his shoulder. Grace walked to the back of the haycart as Tokota came around the other side. Jessie stayed in the saddle but nudged Paul close. In the back of the cart, propped on a few bales of hay, sat Kaga and George Richmond.
Whereas pain was the reason for Kaga’s drawn expression and sweaty skin, Richmond’s unhealthy pallor had all to do with the revolver he gripped in his shaking hand. He peered at the small group through two bruised eyes and a swollen nose and gulped in terror. Unlike Grace and Tokota, or even Jessie, Richmond was a gentrified sort and had never in his entire life held a gun. Yet when Grace and Jessie had come marching into his room at Spelts’ bunkhouse and had slit his hand open and squeezed a cupful of black sludge from his veins, he’d sworn he owed them his very soul. They hadn’t asked him to come and join the attack on the brothel; he’d insisted.
Jessie tugged Paul’s reins and found his gaze drawn to Kaga. The native man lay in the cart, able to do little more than prop himself up on his elbows. He wore a thick bandage wrapped around his torso, which was already soaked through with blood. His eyes were feverish, and he struggled with an infection. Jessie’s knife-work would no doubt have finished him off had Edna Spelts not come across him in the stable so soon after the attack. Yet despite her patchwork and Tokota’s begrudgingly boiled remedies, Kaga still perched on the threshold between this world and the afterlife. Grace was convinced that if he lived through the night, he’d recover easier when dawn drew him back into his wolf skin. His wolf shape was hardier than the delicate skin of man.
Jessie lowered his head and struggled to swallow. He hadn’t spoken to Kaga yet. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he’d helped Grace assemble the instruments they needed to wage war on La Chatte Affamee.
Grace gazed at the companions each in turn, her eyes lingering on Kaga. She’d said in no uncertain terms that he was forbidden from taking part in tonight’s activities. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that she could either take him with her or he’d come on his own. Grace had railed long and loud, but the stubborn man would not be swayed. So she’d lit upon the idea of the haycart. Jessie noticed she still wore her anger across her face, though her gaze softened as she stared at her lover’s pain-filled face. She shook her head and turned to the grand manor.
“So, if Ruby’s any kind of trustworthy, them girls’ll be catching a weasel on the top floor, and we got us a good hour or two to get this place blazing.”
Richmond frowned. “And what if she’s not trustworthy? What if you go in there to an ambush?”
Grace shrugged. “Then it becomes a shooting match. Wouldn’t mind seeing how one of them girls squares up to Justice and Mercy anyway.”
“It won’t come to that,” Jessie muttered. “I got a feeling Ruby’s as done with all this bad med’cine as we are.”
Grace eyed Jessie but said nothing. Richmond’s revolver slipped from his sweaty grip, and he fumbled the heavy gun. Tokota stood on the fringe, silent and still, and surveyed the brothel. Kaga smiled weakly at Grace. She returned his smile with genuine warmth.
“Right, like we figured, Jessie, Kaga, Richmond, you all stay out here and keep an eye out for fellas. Soon as one john gets a whiff of what’s going down the whole lot of them will be clamoring for blood. Tokota, when we get inside, you fix yourself a spot and get working on that charm of yours. I’ll have Ruby douse the bottom floor in tornado juice, and I’m gonna take the top floor.”
Jessie frowned. “Careful up there, Grace. You don’t want to wake the girls.”
“I know what I’m doing, Jessie.”
Jessie was far from mollified with her response. If anything, he sensed that she very much did want to wake the girls. And something else was gnawing at him, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something that had to do with the Darksome Gunman’s brutal slaying of Mozelle. Jessie couldn’t get the image of her crumpled body out of his head. He sighed and said nothing as Grace and Tokota shouldered their cargo and headed up the steps of La Chatte Affamee. They were swallowed up inside the imposing structure as the double doors swung closed behind.
Paul shifted nervously. Jessie drew his Colt and peered into the shadows. Richmond clambered from the haycart and huddled beneath the magnolia tree, eyeing the main street with trepidation. Jessie’s gaze lingered on the dandy for a moment before shifting to Kaga. The native man had a revolver sitting on the hay bale beside him, but he appeared too weak to even hold the gun, let alone shoot it.
Jessie kneed Paul and the horse wandered to the haycart. Kaga’s dark eyes opened as Paul approached. There was no acrimony in Kaga’s gaze, no accusation, no hostility—merely exhaustion.
Jessie slithered from the saddle and hopped into the back of the haycart. He made his way across to Kaga, trying to not rock the cart as he moved. Jessie gingerly sat beside Kaga feeling the native’s dark eyes on him. He shook his head and the words gushed out of him. “Kaga. I’m so sorry. I cain’t never make it right. What I did to you will haunt me forever. And what I tried to do to Grace. I just... I just wish you’d sock me in the teeth and be done with it.”
Kaga’s brows raised. “Would that make you feel better? If I hit you?”
Jessie shrugged miserably.
Kaga shook his head. “I will not hit you, Jessie. I know what happened was not your doing. Not consciously. I hold no ill will toward you.”
Jessie scrubbed the back of his hand across his face. “Yeah, but I could have killed you. And Grace, I could have...you know...”
Kaga smiled, though his eyes were hooded. “Yes, you might have killed me. But Jessie, you would never have made Grace do something against her will. That is not possible.”
“It don’t matter. She hates me now anyway.”
“Does she? That’s not what she says. Why do you think she came here looking for you?” Kaga asked quietly.
Jessie frowned. “I thought to lam me sound and gimme a hemp necktie.”
Kaga chuckled and pressed a hand against his stomach. “No, Jessie. She was not looking to kill you. She came here to save you. Grace knew you were not of your right mind when you did those things. When she was satisfied I would live she spoke of nothing more than finding you. Saving you.”
Jessie’s eyes widened.
The native man nodded. “Her exact words, if I recall, were ‘’gotta find that mangy cuss, slap him upside the head till he’s all black and blue and right shy of whatever demon’s possessing him.’”
Jessie couldn’t help but crack a grin at Kaga’s impression of Grace. Warmth radiated across his chest, and he found it hard to swallow the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Kaga.”
&nb
sp; The native man smiled. “You know, Jessie, Grace doesn’t—”
“Jessie! Kaga! We got trouble!”
Jessie sat bolt upright as Richmond’s voice shattered their peaceful interlude.
Kaga pressed a hand to his stomach. “Richmond? What is it?”
The dandy appeared at their side, his face pale and his eyes wide. “See for yourselves.”
Jessie rose to his feet and peered across the wide main street. The warm glow of Temerity’s lamps cast their revealing light over the main street and illuminated a score of menfolk making their way to La Chatte Affamee.
Jessie dashed through the grand parlor with little more than a cursory glance. Tokota wouldn’t choose such an obvious place to make his warding. Instead, he made straight for the rear of the brothel to the back lobby. An ill-used room according to the girls of La Chatte; they’d been proud to declare the menfolk of Temerity had little use for sneaking in and out.
Jessie found Tokota hunched beside a wall, knife in hand, deep in concentration. He carved up the wall as he murmured a chant in a lyrical singsong voice. It was the sort of ritual usually performed by a medicine man, but they hadn’t the time to call a shaman. Instead, it had fallen to Tokota to perform the ritual...and to get it right.
“Tokota!” Jessie cried as he dashed in.
To his credit, the native man didn’t flinch at the unexpected voice. He merely glanced over his shoulder and scowled.
“The menfolk are getting all up in arms! We gotta scat now!”
Tokota murmured to himself and drew a line in the wall. “Nearly finished.”
Jessie opened his mouth to cajole Tokota into hurrying when a cool voice cut through the air. “What are you doing?”
Jessie jerked around and Tokota tightened his grip on his five-inch blade as he turned. A doe-eyed, raven-haired beauty stood in the doorway. She looked genuinely befuddled, and her hair was mussed from being abed. Her gaze slid from Jessie to Tokota to the half-carved sigil. She frowned and irritation suffused her features as she looked upon the vandal and his handiwork.
Guns of Perdition Page 18
