The Devil's Waltz

by Ethan J. Wolfe

“ ’Cause I got no shaving mirror,” Jane said as she ran the razor up Posey’s neck.

  They were in the bathtub and, to Posey’s surprise, Jane had some French bubble bath she added to the hot water.

  “There,” Jane said. “Clean shaven. Rinse off.”

  Posey dunked under the water for a moment to rinse the shaving soap off his face.

  When he came up, Jane said, “Grab that little bottle there on the floor.”

  Posey reached for the tiny bottle beside the tub.

  “That’s hair soap they call shampoo,” Jane said. “Came all the way from Paris in France. Pour a little on my hair and work it into a lather.”

  Posey removed the top from the bottle and poured a small amount on Jane’s hair, replaced the top, and set the bottle on the floor.

  Jane closed her eyes as Posey rubbed her hair.

  “Jack, something I want to say,” Jane said.

  “What’s that, Jane?”

  “Why not stay here with me?” Jane said. “You’re only going to get yourself killed chasing after Spooner.”

  “Jane, I’m not Wild Bill,” Posey said as he worked the shampoo into a lather.

  “I know that,” Jane said. “Old Bill was going blind, Jack. Did you know that?”

  “I did not.”

  “If that coward McCall didn’t shoot him in the back of the head, Bill would have gone blind for sure,” Jane said. “His eyes would hurt so bad sometimes, he’d smoke an opium pipe until he passed out to get rid of the pain.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Jane. Bill deserved a better fate.”

  “So how about it, Jack? Why not stay here with me. It ain’t so bad here, and when I set my mind to being true, I don’t stray,” Jane said.

  “It’s not that, Jane,” Posey said. “My mind is set on Spooner. Rinse.”

  Jane dunked under to rinse her hair, came up, and said, “You’ll just get yourself killed, Jack.”

  “It’s the principle, Jane,” Posey said. “A man don’t sell out his principles.”

  “Oh, damn you, Jack Posey,” Jane said. “Come here and give me a poke and to hell with your principles.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  * * *

  Posey waited on the porch for Jane after he saddled their horses. The morning sun was warm on his face as he drank some coffee and smoked a cigarette.

  When she finally came out to the porch, he was shocked.

  Jane wore a dark purple dress with black, high-button shoes and a purple hat with a feather in it. She didn’t have her two-gun holster and carried a large satchel.

  “Jane, you look fine,” Posey said.

  “Let’s go if we’re going, you stupid fool,” Jane said.

  They reached the outskirts of Miles City where Jane switched to riding sidesaddle.

  When Posey looked at her, she said, “Ain’t proper for a woman to be seen in public riding like a man.”

  As they rode down Main Street, everyone in town stopped to stare at them, not believing their eyes.

  At the law office, Posey said, “Hold up a minute, Jane,” and dismounted.

  Carver and Smalls came out of the office and gawked at Jane.

  “Good God, is that Calamity Jane?” Smalls said.

  “Call me that again, and you’ll find out firsthand why stupid people should never call me that,” Jane said.

  “No offense, Jane,” Smalls said.

  “Where you headed all dressed up like a schoolteacher?” Carver said.

  “The railroad,” Jane said and rode away.

  Posey touched the brim of his black Stetson hat, and then followed Jane.

  Seated in a riding car, Jane looked out the window at the darkness of night and said, “Let’s go to our car and get some sleep, Jack. We got another ten hours to Denver.”

  “Why are you doing this, Jane?” Posey asked. “You could just tell me where to find Belle Starr and . . .”

  “I told you, Jack. You’d never find her and if you did, you’d be dead inside ten seconds,” Jane said. “I’ve grown fond of you. I’d hate to see you cut down in your prime like Wild Bill.”

  Posey dug out his tobacco pouch, paper, and the pint bottle of bourbon. “Got enough left for a nightcap,” he said.

  “Roll one for me,” Jane said.

  Posey rolled two cigarettes and lit them both on a wood match and gave one to Jane.

  “They’d cut down a man just for showing up?” Posey said as he took a sip from the bottle.

  “In the first place . . . give me a shot of that,” Jane said.

  Posey handed the bottle to Jane and she took a sip.

  “In the first place, Belle’s hideout is secret from the law and is known only to a select few,” Jane said. “Her lookouts even see a stranger headed their way, and they gun them down and investigate later.”

  “And they won’t if I’m riding with you?”

  “It’s the only way you get to see Belle Starr, Jack.”

  “What’s in this for you, Jane?”

  “Tell you the truth, Jack, I’m wasting away waiting on that damned Texan,” Jane said. “I needed to get out and stretch my legs.”

  “By sitting on a train for three days?”

  Jane grinned, took a sip from the bottle, and passed it to Jack. “You’ll get to stretch your legs in Fort Smith. Don’t worry about that.”

  Posey took the last sip in the bottle and said, “Damned train is about to rock me to sleep. Let’s go to bed, Jane.”

  Jane stood up. “I think we can put the rocking of this train to good use,” she said.

  Fort Smith, Arkansas, was a large, bustling town with a population of more than three thousand people. Many buildings were constructed of red brick, including a large county courthouse presided over by Judge Isaac Parker.

  “They call him the Hanging Judge,” Jane said as they walked past the courthouse square.

  A large clock in the courthouse tower read four-fifteen in the afternoon.

  “We need to livery our horses and find a place to sleep,” Posey said. “I’d like to leave at first light.”

  “We’ll need supplies for two days,” Jane said. “Livery is just down the street, and then we head over to Madam Poule’s boarding house.”

  Madam Poule’s boarding house was a combination boarding house for weary travelers and brothel for those less weary and in need of female companionship. The house had three floors, with floors one and two reserved for guests. The third floor, accessible from a separate, outside staircase, was the brothel.

  Madam Poule was a plump woman in her fifties, with high cheekbones buffed to a shine with powder and bright red lips. Her ample breasts nearly popped out of her stylish and very tight blouse.

  “Why Jane Canary, is that you?” Madam Poule said when Jane and Posey stepped onto her porch.

  Seated in a wood rocking chair, Madam Poule stood up and gave Jane a hug.

  “And who is this?” Madam Poule asked as she looked at Posey.

  “Jack Posey, an old friend from Deadwood,” Jane said.

  “He doesn’t look so old to me,” Madam Poule said.

  “Got a room for us?” Jane asked. “Just tonight.”

  “Got one on the second floor with a great big queen-size bed,” Madam Poule said. “Room eleven. Supper is served at six. Two of my whores used to be chefs in some fancy restaurant in Chicago. They do all the cooking.”

  “See you at six,” Jane said. “Jack, be a dear and grab my bag.”

  Holding his saddlebags and two rifles, Posey balanced them all and took hold of Jane’s satchel.

  “Don’t be late for supper,” Madam Poule said.

  Seated in the swing set on the front porch, Jane and Posey smoked cigarettes and drank after-dinner coffee. Wall-mounted lanterns glowed softly, providing gentle light.

  “Those girls can cook,” Jane said. “That was one fine beef stew.”

  “How long will it take us to reach Belle Starr?” Posey asked.

  “Tw
o days,” Jane said. “We’ll need supplies for two days, but buy enough for a week. And six bottles of good whiskey. No, better make it seven.”

  “We going to drink our way there?”

  “No, silly,” Jane said. “You don’t show up at Belle’s without an offering.”

  The two whores who prepared supper came out to the porch. “If you want a poke, we won’t charge you double for the both of us,” one of them said to Posey.

  “If he wants a poke, it sure as hell won’t be with you two skinny birds,” Jane said. “Now get while you still got legs to walk with.”

  “Well, how about more coffee and dessert?” one of the whores asked.

  “Do you have any ice cream?” Posey asked.

  “No, but we baked an apple pie.”

  “That will do,” Posey said.

  Jane looked at Posey. “Ice cream, Jack?”

  “I had some the other day in Miles City,” Posey said.

  “Speaking of pokes, I’m getting the itch again,” Jane said.

  “Can’t it wait until after we had our pie?”

  Jane stood and grabbed Posey’s hand.

  “Think of it as an exchange, Jack,” she said. “One pie for another.”

  Shortly after sunrise, Posey retrieved the horses and walked them to the general store. It didn’t open until eight, so he took a seat in a chair out front and smoked a cigarette while he waited.

  The storekeeper and his wife arrived promptly at eight and opened for business. Posey bought enough supplies for a week and seven bottles of whiskey. With the horses loaded with supplies, he walked them to Madam Poule’s boarding house.

  Jane stood on the porch with a cup of coffee. She wore black trail pants with a dark blue shirt and black riding boots. Her two-gun holster was strapped around her thin waist.

  “Madam Poule had her whores save us breakfast if you have an appetite,” Jane said.

  “How many miles we riding today?” Posey asked.

  “Twenty, twenty-five, and all of them hard.”

  “Then I have an appetite,” Posey said.

  By noon, they were in the high country close to the Ozark Mountains.

  “These foothills go on until dark,” Jane said. “Tomorrow we start to climb. We’ll be in the Indian Nation. Then we can start to worry.”

  “They aren’t at war with anybody I know of,” Posey said.

  “Different kind of war, Jack,” Jane said. “Let’s find a stream and noon for a bit. My back hurts from this saddle.”

  Lunch was a simple meal of beans, bacon, and cornbread from the Forth Smith general store with coffee. Jane opened a bottle of whiskey and added some to her coffee cup.

  “I’d suggest we hunt a turkey or hare for supper, but a shot carries for miles out here and we don’t want any company in our sleep,” Jane said.

  “That store in Fort Smith had two beefsteaks wrapped in salt,” Posey said. “We’ll have them tonight. He also had this loaf of bread he said they make in the country of Italy. He called it Italian bread.”

  “I don’t think I ever had no Italian bread,” Jane said.

  “He said it’s good for soaking up gravy,” Posey said.

  Jane looked at the sky. “Finish up, Jack. We got six hours riding ahead of us.”

  Close to dark, they made camp near a small stream that ran down from the Ozarks.

  “I don’t know what hurts more, my back or my feet,” Jane said.

  “Go soak your feet in the stream while I build a fire and see to supper,” Posey said.

  Posey built a fire, put up the beans and coffee, and then tended to the horses. By the time he put the steaks in the fry pan, the coffee was ready, and he took a cup to the stream where Jane was soaking her feet.

  “I ain’t cut out for this kind of life no more, Jack,” Jane said. “I ain’t young like I was them years in Deadwood. I reckon when I get home, I’ll wire that damn Texan and see what’s holding him up.”

  “Sounds like a wise decision,” Posey said.

  “Maybe you should make a wise decision yourself,” Jane said.

  “If you mean forget about Tom Spooner, I can’t do that,” Posey said.

  “No, I reckon you can’t,” Jane said. “Being a stubborn fool and all.”

  “I best see to those steaks,” Posey said.

  “This Italian bread is hard as rock,” Jane said.

  “Rip off a piece and wipe up the juice from the steak,” Posey said. “It’s pretty good that way.”

  Jane tore off a small piece of the bread and soaked up the juice from her steak and then placed it in her mouth. “Ain’t so bad when it’s wet,” Jane said. “Where is this Italian country anyway?”

  “Italy is a country in Europe,” Posey said. “I studied about the Roman Empire in school. They used to rule the world at one time.”

  “Maybe so,” Jane said. “But they make lousy bread.”

  “Where are we headed tomorrow?” Posey asked.

  “High country,” Jane said. “And I hope you ain’t afraid of the dark.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  By early afternoon they had covered close to twenty miles in rough, high country. Jane seemed to know where every pass and turn was located, and they had little trouble making distance.

  “Hold up, Jack,” Jane said as they reached a pass through a rocky gorge surrounded by mountains.

  Jane and Posey dismounted.

  “It’s a hard climb here on out,” Jane said. “The horses need rest and grain, and I’m a mite hungry, too.”

  “We got five hours of daylight left,” Posey said. “We’ll rest an hour.”

  “I’ll have some of that cornbread if there’s any left,” Jane said.

  “Got a whole loaf,” Posey said.

  After crossing through the pass, Jane led the way to high country.

  “We in the Ozarks now, Jack,” she said.

  “It’s pretty country,” Posey said. “Reminds me of Colorado or Utah some.”

  Jane reached into a saddlebag for a brightly colored necklace and placed it around her neck.

  “What’s that for?” Posey asked.

  “Belle gave it to me,” Jane said. “If they see this, they won’t cut us down.”

  “What is it?”

  “Sign of the Cherokee Nation, Jack.”

  The sun had shifted across the sky, and by four in the afternoon the ground was covered in shadow.

  Posey kept his eyes scanning the high ground. At one point he spotted sunlight reflecting off something shiny in the mountains.

  “Did you see that, Jane?” Posey asked.

  “I saw it.”

  “Sun reflecting off the metal on a rifle,” Posey said.

  “I know,” Jane said.

  “It’s at least a mile off,” Posey said.

  “We’ll ride to dark,” Jane said. “Tomorrow you get to meet Belle Starr.”

  A few minutes before dawn, Posey untangled himself from Jane’s body and got out of the bedroll. Even though it was early July, the higher elevation of the Ozarks brought a chill to the morning.

  He built a fire and put coffee on to boil. Breakfast would be beans, bacon, and cornbread. When the coffee was ready, Jane awoke and sat up.

  “Is that coffee I smell?” she said.

  “It is. Have a cup. Breakfast is nearly ready,” Posey said.

  “Roll me one of those cigarettes, Jack,” Jane said.

  Posey rolled a cigarette, lit it, and passed it to Jane, along with a cup of coffee.

  “How long to reach Belle?” Posey asked.

  “From here about four hours,” Jane said. “And from here you ride blindfolded.”

  “Is that necessary?”

  “Only if you want to reach Belle Starr alive,” Jane said.

  Jane led Posey’s horse with a rope looped around his neck and tied to her saddle horn. Jane also tied Posey’s hands behind his back to keep him from removing the bandanna she wrapped around his eyes. With his eyes
blindfolded, Posey had no notion of direction, just that they were traveling up.

  Sometime after noon—Posey could tell by the sun on his face—Jane stopped the horses and dismounted.

  She untied Posey’s hands and he removed the bandanna. The sun was blinding for a few moments until his eyes adjusted to the light.

  “A quarter mile and we’re there,” Jane said as she removed the rope from Posey’s horse.

  Jane mounted her horse and said, “There’s three riders behind us and the like number on our flanks. We go in easy and there will be no trouble.”

  “Lead the way,” Posey said.

  The trail evened out after a few hundred yards to a grass-filled clearing. Posey spotted rising smoke about a thousand yards in the distance.

  “Our destination,” Jane said.

  As they neared the two cabins and corral in the distance, three riders appeared behind Posey and Jane.

  When they were five hundred feet away, three riders on each flank appeared, and the nine riders escorted Posey and Jane to the large corral where a dozen or more horses were penned.

  Belle Starr and two men were seated in chairs on the porch of the first cabin.

  “Stay in the saddle until Belle says so,” Jane said.

  Belle stood up and said, “Jane Canary, climb down off that horse and bring your companion.”

  Jane and Posey dismounted.

  “Bring the whiskey, Jack,” Jane said as she walked to the porch.

  Posey removed the wood box wrapped in fishnet and tied to the back of Jane’s saddle.

  Jane stepped up onto the porch and looked at Belle.

  “Howdy, Belle. You look fine,” Jane said.

  “It’s been too long, Jane,” Belle said.

  “At least a year.”

  “Still raising horses for the army in Miles City?”

  “For now. I’m waiting on the Texan to come north and marry me,” Jane said.

  Belle looked at Posey. “And who is this?”

  “Jack Posey,” Jane said. “An old friend from Deadwood.”

  “What have you got there, Jack Posey?”

  “A gift, Belle,” Jane said.

  “Bring your gift on up here, Jack Posey,” Belle said.