Wanted: Barkeep (Silverpines Series Book 13)

by Lynn Donovan

  “Sure, Mr. Goodnight. I’ll be back real quick like.” He slapped Mule’s back with the reins and headed her toward the lumberyard, his shoulders rounded and his posture exhibiting his disappointment.

  Mrs. Daniels stepped down off her porch. “Why’re you hiring that boy? I agreed to pay you two for this work, now you’re bringing him in. I gotta pay him, too while you two’re standin’ around doing nothin’.”

  Goodnight glanced at his partner. “Now, Mrs. Daniels, I done told you, I don’t want you paying for nothing more than what is necessary to get this shed rebuilt. Me and Rody, we’re gonna stay here and get the ground ready, dig post holes, and such. You’re paying us a whole lot more per hour than what it would take to get that boy to go pickup and deliver the lumber. If Rody and me took the time to go it, it’d cost you more and none of the preparation work would be getting done. Now, I know just cause you’re a widow don’t mean you ain’t smart with figures. You know how ta get the most for your money, and I done told ya, we want to save you as much cost on this shed as we can. We aren’t con men, like some of these yahoos that come into town, trying to take advantage. No ma’am. We’re gonna do you right.”

  A slight smile creased Mrs. Daniels’s thin lips as she considered his compliment. She nodded. “You boys get to work then, I’ll put a pot a coffee on and bring you a cup in a bit.”

  “I sure do thank you, ma’am. Not only are you smart about your money—we appreciate working for a person who treats us so kindly.”

  A slight pink filled her cheeks. She waved off his compliment and turned to go in her house. Goodnight winked at Rody, where the widow couldn’t see, and walked over to the area where they were to build the shed.

  Soon Jackson and his wagon rumbled toward the Daniels’s home. He pulled the mule close to where they were shoving post hole diggers into the ground, and leapt from the bench. “You want this stacked over here, Mr. Goodnight?”

  Goodnight stopped as his digger hit solid ground and wiped his brow. “That’d be a good spot, son.”

  Jackson noticeably stiffened, then turned to unload the wagon. Goodnight continued digging his post hole, while Rody worked on his corner of what would soon be a shed.

  Once Jackson had all the material stacked on the ground, he walked up to Goodnight. “When should I come by for my payment, Mr. Goodnight?”

  He shoved the digger into the ground next to the hole he had made, pulled the blue bandana from his back pocket, and sopped his sweat covered brow. “I reckon we’ll work here ’til close to dusk. Come back ‘round then and we’ll get our first pay from the widow. I reckon you earned enough to get that BB gun.”

  Jackson’s face filled with surprise. “How’d you—“

  “Oh, Rody was in the mercantile yesterday and saw you eyeing the gun, son. It don’t take much to know what you’d be working so hard to get for yourself.” Goodnight laughed. “I was a boy once, I’d have bought that gun by then if I’d had the means. You’ve got a good thing going on for yourself, here in Silverpines, don’t ya?

  Jackson’s brow drew together. “I-uh.”

  “Oh, I just mean, you don’t got no ma hovering over ya, telling you what you can and can’t do. You’ve got a good reputation with the widows, since the disasters, havin’ odd jobs coming to ya right and left. Been getting quite a potful of savings, ain’t ya?” Goodnight walked around Jackson as if he were sizing him up. “Yeah, you’re quite the ‘entrepreneur’ ain’t ya?”

  “What’s an awnte—“

  Goodnight chuckled. “It means you’re destined to be a rich business man, son. You know how to make money hand over fist. I’m impressed. Really I am. You’re a smart boy.”

  Jackson smiled and nodded demonstrating his understanding.

  Goodnight placed his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “You know, I might have another job for you.” He turned back to look at Rodriguez. “What you think, Rody?”

  Then he turned back to Jackson. “Oh, I don’t know. This job isn’t going to be as easy as picking up lumber. It don’t just take muscle, it’ll take some smarts, too. I just don’t know if it’d be too complicated for a kid—“

  “No.” Jackson chimed in. “I’m pretty smart. I can do ‘ bout anything you need.”

  Goodnight cocked his head back, considering Jackson. “I don’t know. What do you think, Rody? You think our boy Jackson could handle that job Flagg wanted us to do for him?”

  Rodriguez appeared to be seriously thinking about his answer. “I don’t know, Boss. It’s not gonna be easy.”

  “I can handle not being easy.” Jackson nearly bounced on the balls of his boots.

  Goodnight eyed him in silence. “Well… alright. Meet us here around dusk, we’ll talk about it some more and decide if you think you can handle the work. It’s really more of a job for a grown man, but” —he considered Jackson’s height and girth— “You certainly are the size of some full grown men. Maybe you could handle this job after all.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it won’t be no problem for me. I’m fourteen and strong as a grownup. It won’t be no problem.”

  Goodnight nodded. “We’ll see you later, then.”

  Jackson leapt into the seat of the wagon and trotted the mule back to the Adams’s carriage house. Goodnight turned from watching the boy ride away and smiled. Rody smiled back and continued working on his post hole.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Flora sat at a card table with four men placing their opening bets. She preferred to deal so no one could accuse a stranger of cheating while dealing. She glanced up at Mac behind the bar and felt a familiar tingle settle in her midsection. It’d been a long time since her eyes had taken him in, but nothing had changed, really. He was just as handsome as he ever was. Emotions stirred in her just like before, only this time she wasn’t as terrified of losing her independence. This saloon was hers outright, and paid for. Not the bank nor Mac McMillan could take it away from her.

  Diamond and Sadie were working the room, serving drinks, and letting the men flirt with them, yet keeping things under control. Flora puffed on a slim little cigar and set it in an ashtray, then signaled each man to let her know if they wanted a card or to pass. She laid a card down, the man busted and shoved back from the table. She signaled the next man. He passed. Her eyes moved to the next man, he accepted a card and signaled he was good. She turned to the last man. He tapped the table and she laid down a two of clubs. He tapped the table again. She laid down an eight of diamonds.

  “Aw!” He screeched, kicking back in anger.

  Mac’s head shot up at the sound of the man’s aggressive move. The man was on his feet and Mac’s peacemaker was in his hand, pointed at the man. Their eyes met, but not a word was spoken. The man gingerly sat back down and pulled his chair back up to the table. “I apologize, Miss Flora.”

  Flora smiled. “Apology accepted.” She turned back to the second and third man. “Gentlemen, show your cards.”

  They turned their cards over and the second man had the better hand. He yelled happily and wrapped his arms around the coins in the middle of the table.

  Flora gathered the cards and shuffled the deck.

  Diamond stepped up behind Flora and bent to whisper in her ear. “Marshal wants to speak to you, Miss Flora.”

  Flora looked up to find Alexzander Sewell swigging at a one-inch foam head on his sarsaparilla.

  Flora nodded greetings to the marshal and let Diamond take her place dealing the card game. “Watch that one, he’s got a temper,” she whispered as she walked past the man who had nearly been shot by Mac.

  “What can I do for you, Marshal?” She sat on a stool next to him.

  Mac wiped a glass dry with his ever present bar rag.

  Alexzander swallowed his cold drink. “I just wanted to let you know, there’s been some trouble in town.”

  “How so, Alex?” Flora lowered her voice.

  “That Goodnight and his Mexican friend have been making threatening accusations to Sarah Gillham. Seems
he has changed his tactics of asking politely if he can make repairs on her gunsmith shop to demanding she let him do the work. She’s held her ground and turned him down every time. Now that her new husband is in town, it seems Goodnight is getting more aggressive. I don’t understand why. You’d think with a man in her life, Goodnight’d back off.”

  Mac continued to wipe the same glass, even though it was dry.

  “He’s an odd one, Marshal. Who knows how he thinks?” Flora leaned on her elbow.

  “Truer words have not been spoken, Miss Flora.” Alexzander chuckled and finished the last of his soft drink. “Well, I’ll be on my way. Just wanted to stop by and let you know it was a good thing you’ve forbidden him to come in here. He seems to be just as much of a troublemaker as them men threatening the White Oak Ranch.”

  “Really?” Flora cocked her head to one side. “I heard they burned Laura’s barn clear down to the ground, trying to coax her into selling her ranch. I’m glad her betrothed put an end to all that nonsense.”

  “Yeah,” Alexzander repositioned his hat. “It’s a shame the caliber of men that have spilled into Silverpines since the earthquakes. I gotta say, though. The grooms that have been answering those ads are sure improving the balance between good and bad. Soon I reckon them con men will give up preying on the widows and go somewhere else.”

  “I hope you’re right, Marshal.” Flora looked at Mac. He was expressionless, still rubbing his rag on the inside of a thoroughly dried glass.

  “Night, Miss Flora.” Alexzander strode out the swinging doors.

  “Night Alex.” Flora called after him. “Well, whatcha know. Ol’ Goodnight has shown his true colors in more than one store in town.”

  Mac still wiped the same glass as if he were lost in thought. “Listen, Flora. I might have seen Jackson—”

  “Don’t you worry about Jackson.” She stiffened. “Between me and Hazel, we keep a close eye on him. He’s not gonna get into trouble like those riffraff who are trying to cheat the widows.”

  “I didn’t mean he was trying to cheat anybody. I saw him—”

  “It’s not your responsibility to worry about watching Jackson’s goings, Mac.”

  Mac’s one eyebrow lifted on his forehead. He lowered his voice. “He’s my son, too, Flora. I care about what he might be getting himself into.”

  “Jackson is a good boy. He’s not getting himself into any trouble. I assure you, Mac.” Her voice quivered somewhere between a laugh and an angry tone.

  Mac put the glass in its place with more force than was necessary. He leaned on the bar with the rag still in his hand. “Look. I realize you are biased, but I’m telling you I saw something today that has me concerned. And now that the marshal has come in here—”

  “Mac!” Flora cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “I told you, whatever Jackson is doing is not your concern. It’s mine.”

  He stood to his full height and glared at her. Anger filled his eyes and turned his face and neck dark red.

  “Fine.” He tossed the rag on the bar. “Don’t come crying to me when he ends up in the good marshal’s jail cell. Cause what I saw today, the boy is innocently about to get himself into a lot of trouble. I feel it in my bones.” Mac stepped back from the bar. “I need some air. Can you handle the bar for a little while?”

  Flora stared at him in disbelief. Finally she uttered, “Sure.”

  Just about the time the rain began, the sky transitioned to a dark purple, and Jackson stepped into Widow Daniels’s yard. Goodnight and Rodriguez stood under the widow’s covered porch drinking coffee with her. “There’s a chill with this rain, boy. You want some hot coffee?”

  Jackson stood to his full height. Adults drank coffee. He liked it that Mr. Goodnight treated him like one. “Sure, I’ll take some.”

  The widow frowned, but poured the young man a cup, and handed it to him. She shivered as she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’ll go inside and let you men-folk discuss your business.”

  Just then, thunder rumbled across the darkening sky and echoed against the mountain. Jagged fingers of lightning ran through the clouds across the river.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Daniels.” Goodnight spoke sweetly. “We won’t be here long. We’ve got some work to do for another widow in need, but you rest assured, we’ll be back tomorrow to get that shed finished.” Goodnight handed her his empty cup. “Thank you for the warm up.”

  Concern filled her face as she looked out at the rain. “In this weather?”

  “Yes ma’am, we promised. Like we done for you, we don’t break our promises, no matter what the weather be like.”

  She nodded with a slight grin and a blush in her cheeks, then retreated into her house.

  Goodnight turned to Jackson. “Mighty glad you showed up, boy. This job we got for you is powerfully important.”

  Jackson concentrated on Goodnight’s face, listening intently to what he had to tell him. “Now, we got your payment for bringing us the lumber.” He patted his front pants pocket. Jackson could hear coins hit against one another. His eyes darted to the pocket then back to Goodnight’s face.

  “We’ll give you your due after we get this one little thing done for our boss.” Goodnight glanced at Rodriguez and lowered his voice. “You see, Jackson, we work for an important man named Colonel Flagg. He sent us here, undercover-like.”

  Jackson’s eyes widened.

  “Seems there’s a fella here goes by the name Dekum. He stole a piece of property from Colonel Flagg and aims ta claim it as his own. He’s come in here to Silverpines as a mail-order groom, and gonna use Widow Gillham and her daughter to give him access to a gunsmith shop, then he’s gonna make a bunch a these new pistols that ain’t even on the market yet. Colonel Flagg’s none too happy about this, as you can imagine.”

  Jackson nodded. A clap of thunder made him jerk. Moments later the lightning filled the town with a bright flickering light and then vanished. It seemed darker than before.

  “Now, we’ve disguised ourselves as carpenters and been going around doing jobs for the widows, so we could find out for sure if Dekum really has Colonel Flagg’s property. We believe he does, so now we gotta figure out just where he might be storing it. It ain’t right taking from another and claiming it for your own, is it boy?”

  “No sir. I was brung up knowin’ stealing ain’t right.” Jackson nodded vigorously.

  Goodnight patted Jackson on the shoulder, then glanced over at his partner. “Good. We knew you were just the man for this job. Cause you knows right from wrong and you’re willin’ ta do whatever it takes to set things right, ain’t ya boy?”

  Jackson nodded again. “Uh… sure.”

  “Alright. Now, here’s where we need your help. See, you’re tall and skinny, limber as a spring willow, where we are broad and, well, we just can’t do what you can do.”

  Jackson licked his lips and shifted from one foot to the other. He was anxious to get this done. Whatever it was.

  Goodnight continued. “We’re gonna wait a bit, for it ta get a little darker. This rain is helping with that. No moon shining on us to ruin our plan. The lightning will pass, too. We don’t need the good Lord putting a beacon o’ light on us while we’re trying to get this back from Dekum, if that’s even his real name.”

  Just then another sky full of thunder rumbled across the bulbous dark clouds. The lightning that followed lit above the clouds, giving an eerie lightning bug effect.

  Jackson looked out across the yard at the thick sheets of rain.

  “We’re gonna go with you, see.” Goodnight put his arm around Jackson’s shoulder and spoke more softly near his ear. “And when we get over by the gunsmith shop, we’ll help you get in through a winder. You look around ’til you find a box, about yeah big” —he demonstrated the size with his hands— “then you hand it out ta us through the winder and we’ll help you back out the same way you went in.” Goodnight nodded. “Then we’ll give ya everything we owe ya afore you go bac
k home.”

  Jackson mirrored Goodnight’s affirmation.

  “Then Rodriguez and me’ll leave town and you won’t say a word about what we’ve done. You got that?”

  Jackson hesitated. “Sure, but what about Mrs. Daniels’s shed?”

  Goodnight grinned. “Smart boy. You’re a caring young man. I tell you what. We won’t leave town right away, we’ll come back over here first thing in the morning and finished Widow Daniels’s shed, then we’ll take Colonel Flagg’s property back to him.”

  Jackson considered Goodnight’s words and nodded agreement. “Alright. And I won’t say nothing about you taking Colonel Flagg’s box, ‘cause it was his in the first place.”

  Goodnight slapped Jackson on the back. “You are the most intelligent kid I’ve ever met, Jackson. We sure picked the right man for this job, didn’t we Rody?”

  “Sí.” Rodriguez grinned in the shadows of Mrs. Daniels’s rain-soaked porch.

  “What’s in this box I’ll be looking for?” Jackson walked with Goodnight and Rodriguez into the rain and headed toward the gunsmith’s shop.

  “It’s a casting mold for a brand new .38 pistol. Ain’t even on the market yet. Colonel Flagg was mighty upset to have it stolen from him. He had big plans for distributing it out here in the west. It seems the Smith and Wesson company out east made a profitable deal with him to be the west coast distributor, and then ol’ Dekum shattered that plan by—”

  They came to the corner of the gunsmith shop. “Here we are.” He whispered. His voice was lost in the sound of the rain.” We need to be as quiet as a mouse, on a count of the Gillham Widow and her daughter live above the shop.” He leaned his head back to look at the lantern-less upstairs windows. “Now, let’s go ‘round back, Dekum has built a smithing forge back there and that’s the most likely place where he’d stash the mold.”

  Jackson looked all around to see if anyone was in the streets, despite the rain, who could see them walking around the building. The streets were dark and looked empty. He followed Goodnight and Rodriguez. Goodnight stood on the toes of his boots, clinging to a stone ledge and peeked into a window. A clap of thunder rent the air. Goodnight settled back on his feet and waited for the lightning’s flooding illumination to pass.