Silver opened the nursery door. Waanibe?” Drat! Where was the child? She’d better check the Duchess’s room. If the little girl was playing in the jewelry box again, her mother would be upset. Silver wished the woman would put her baubles in the safe instead of leaving them on her bureau. Of course probably no one but herself realized the jewelry had any real value and Silver had never told anyone.
She pushed the spectacles back up her nose and smoothed the drab dress as she walked through the nursery, opened the door to the Duchess’s room. The little girl stood in Silver’s glittering slippers and wore dozens of the Duchess’s bracelets, rings, and broaches. Ah ha! There you are, you little rascal! Your mama will scold you and me both if she catches you!”
I’m playing dress-up.” She smiled at Silver, maddeningly sweet with her black hair and dark eyes, all wrapped in one of the Duchess’s finest lace shawls.
I know what you’re doing and your mama won’t like it. You can wear my shoes, but leave your mama’s jewelry alone. Let’s go to my room and read a story book.”
Okay, Silvery.” Obediently, Waanibe took off the jewelry and laid it in the velvet box. Mama says the war will be over in a year or so and then I’ll go off to school. You’re going with me, aren’t you?”
We’ll talk about that later.” Silver brushed her dyed hair back into her severe bun while reaching for the child’s hand. She had known from the first that eventually Wannie would be sent off to boarding school. After all, how long could an innocent girl stay in a rough bordello like the Duchess’s Palace? What would Silver do then? She loved the child like her own—like the dark-skinned child she wished she had had by Cherokee.
They went back to the nursery, where Silver took the glittering shoes off the little girl’s feet, snuggled her up, and opened a story book. She read it automatically and finally closed the book and looked down at the little girl. Now, Wannie, wasn’t that a good story?”
The chubby five-year-old nodded. Good story, Silvery. I like it when the prince came for her and they got on the horses and rode away to live happily ever after.”
Happily ever after. Wasn’t it too bad that life wasn’t like a fairy tale? Silver smiled and nodded absently, thinking of Cherokee. It had been three and a half years since he had ridden off to fight. She had no idea whether he was alive or dead. In the meantime, she had made a life for herself as governess to the Duchess’s child and she was happy, she supposed. At least a lonely little girl loved her.
The child said, Let me give you a treasure, Silvery.” She kissed Silver’s palm and closed her fingers over it. A treasure to put in your pocket.”
Silver laughed. Let me give you a treasure.” She put a dime in the child’s hand and closed her fingers over it. Now that treasure will buy lots of things—candy for both of us.”
I love you, Silvery, I wish you were my mama.” She hugged her governess.
I love you, too, sweet darlin’.” Without thinking, she had used his words. His rugged face came to her mind. Why did she keep thinking of him? If he weren’t dead, she would have heard from him somehow—if he wanted to keep in touch. Of course he might have returned to Buckskin Joe.
Silver herself had gone back on the anniversary of the smallpox epidemic each year to lay flowers on the graves of Al and the others who had died from the disease. Some of the blooms had scattered seeds and now there were wild flowers throughout the graveyard. She didn’t let anyone see her when she went, not that there was anyone much left in the little settlement. In a few more years, it would be a ghost town. Prospectors now were going on to bigger strikes, and places like Fairplay were booming. Besides Silver didn’t want anyone who remembered her beauty to see her and pity her.
Cherokee. The memory hurt. Let’s wash up for dinner,” she said, holding Wannie so the little girl couldn’t see the tears that came to her eyes and threatened to overflow. She had to swallow hard before she could speak. Later, I’ll read you another story.” If the prince ever comes for you, can I go along?” Waanibe’s dark eyes danced with enthusiasm. I’d like to be your little girl. When I do see other children on the street, they’re mean to me. They call me ’half-breed.’”
Half-breed. She almost felt Cherokee’s lips on hers. I don’t think a prince is coming for either of us anytime soon,” she said gently.
Let’s play dress-up now,” Waanibe pouted.
No you don’t!” Silver caught her by the sash of her dress. What we’re going to do is wash up. Then we’ll have dinner and go out and get that candy.”
Waanibe nodded with enthusiasm. A treasure to put in my pocket?”
A treasure to put in your pocket!” she promised and tried not to think about Cherokee. She didn’t know whether he was alive or dead. One thing was certain; if her half-breed prince ever did return, he wouldn’t want Silver with her scarred face.
Chapter Fifteen
Late October 1864. Jake Dallinger glared at the prison warden and ran his fingers through his gray-streaked beard. Now that I’m gettin’ out, do I get my whip back?”
The grim officer hesitated, reached behind his desk, and handed over the silver-handled bull whip. We even saved that smelly fur vest and the old Western hat of yours with the feathers in the band. What you don’t get back is your weapons.”
Gawd Almighty!” Jake drawled in protest, grabbing the whip and rolling its lash up. He hung it on his belt. A man kin get hisself kilt out there in the West without weapons.”
Then don’t go west. There’s Indian trouble there anyhow. You’d be smart to head east.”
Cheyenne most likely and their allies.” Jake spat to one side and stared at the port wine birthmark on his hand. I’d like to kill me a few of them. If it weren’t for one of their warriors, I wouldn’t have ended up in your damned prison.”
I had hoped being here for five years would have taught you something,” the officer said coldly, but I suppose that’s too much to hope for. Just stay out of trouble, Jake. I don’t want to see you back here.”
I’d die before I end up back in prison,” Jake muttered. He took the whip and the other things the warden handed him, turned, and walked out the iron gates. He didn’t have a horse or a gun. Never mind, it wouldn’t be much trouble to steal one and some weapons, too. Stay out of the Rockies? Hell no! There were Cheyenne to kill in Colorado Territory and there was no one Jake hated as much and with good reason.
The only woman Jake had ever really loved, Texanna, had spurned him many years ago to run away with War Bonnet, and had produced the half-breed son, Iron Knife. Back in the spring of ’59, that now grown son, Iron Knife, had gelded Jake in a bloody knife fight and handed him over to the army for trial. If Jake had been smart enough to leave Iron Knife’s woman, Summer Sky, alone, he wouldn’t have ended up in prison.
In between Texanna and Summer, there had been another girl with almost milk white hair he had lusted after and sold into a whorehouse in Chicago. Silver. He wondered for a moment if Bart Brett still had her.
Women. They had been his downfall. There was also an Injun gal Jake wanted revenge against—a little Arapaho named Gray Dove who had robbed him and knocked him in the head. He had a feeling he knew where she might be, too. Yes sir, he would get even with all of them. He’d been brooding over it for more than five years now. But first, he had to have some weapons and a horse.
It was all so easy for the big Georgia cracker. First he picked a lonely prospector who told him there was still a few strikes in the South Park region of Buckskin Joe and Fairplay if a man wanted to work hard. He invited Jake to share his fire and what little food he had. In the middle of the night, Jake garroted the man with the lash of the big bullwhip. Then Jake stole the prospector’s bowie knife, his little stash of gold, an old Sharps rifle, and the man’s horse. Jake didn’t want to work hard to get gold; he’d rather rob lonely old prospectors who might be hiding a stash. Fairplay or Buckskin Joe. Jake headed up into the Rockies.
The town of Buckskin Joe wasn’t much, he decided as
he rode down the main street. He’d seen better towns. A pile of blackened rubble showed where some building had once stood that hadn’t been rebuilt when it had burned. He reined in, looking around.
Down the street came a rattletrap buggy driven by an older man with a mustache and rumpled suit. He looked like a respectable citizen who probably knew everyone in these parts. Jake hailed him and the buggy reined in. Howdy, stranger, I’m lookin’ for an old friend and I plain forgot directions to his claim.”
I’m Doc Johnson,” the other said. Who’s your friend?”
Jake took off his hat and scratched the red scar where he’d been partly scalped by Indians many years ago. He thought fast. Bob Smith.” It was the first name that came to him. Of course, he might be using a fresh handle now.” He laughed. Minor scrap with the law a few years back.”
The doctor nodded. Common enough in these parts. I don’t recollect anyone by that name. We haven’t had too many new people since the smallpox epidemic near wiped out this town, even though it is the county seat. I suspect they’ll take that away from us when they see we aren’t growing.”
On the other hand,” Jake drawled, and grinned agreeably, he might be calling hisself Bill or Tom.”
Doc pulled at his mustache. Did your friend have a partner or maybe two?”
Jake pretended to puzzle over it. Wal, he might have. It’s been a long time.”
I wonder if that might be old Bill and Willie up in Mosquite Gulch?”
Might be. Describe him to me.”
The gullible doctor described both old men in detail.
Why, that’s him, the old rascal!” Jake beamed. You say he and Willie are alone up there?”
Doc nodded. There’s a third partner, a big half-breed who went off to the war and never came back. Reckon he was killed.”
Course I wouldn’t want to make Bill feel beholden to an old friend if there ain’t enough dust up on that claim to go around . . .”
Oh, I think they’re doing fine,” Doc hastened to assure him. Been trying to get them to put their pokes in the bank, but they don’t get in too often.” He pointed vaguely in the distance. It’s not too far from Mt. Silver Heels.”
Jake turned and looked at the snow-capped peak. Funny name for a mountain.”
Doc told him the story.
I knew a purty gal named Silver once. Don’t suppose it could be the same one.”
Doc shrugged. Likely not, although this one was a beauty a man wouldn’t soon forget—until the epidemic and she got the smallpox. She went away, but a couple of folks think they’ve seen her all dressed in mourning and a veil, putting wild flowers on the graves along about dusk.”
Ghost story, huh? Sounds like someone’s had a wee bit too much of the hair of the dog that bit him!” Jake guffawed and lit one of the cheap, strong cigars he favored.
Doc shrugged. She’s a legend, and that’s a fact. No one knows what ever became of her. Dead most likely.”
Jake nodded absently, his mind already on two old prospectors up in the Mosquito Gulch. He exchanged a few more pleasantries and rode out.
It was even easier than Jake had thought it would be. He saw the smoke from the little cabin from a long way off. Dismounting, he hid his horse and sneaked up to the claim. He caught unawares one who limped and garroted him with the handle of his big whip. It was something he had learned from his bitter enemies, the Comanches. That tribe feared to die by hanging or choking because they thought a man’s spirit escaped out of his mouth as he died—unless he died by hanging or choking. Then his spirit was trapped in the dead body forever. Jake shuddered a little at the thought. He was superstitious enough to believe it himself. Gawd almighty! He sure didn’t want to go that way!
Now he went up to the cabin. A small burro munched hay in the corral and a man sang in a cracked, off-key voice from inside. Jake opened the door and sneaked in. Years of living around Indians had taught him to step lightly as a scorpion. The old man had his back to Jake, cooking something in the fireplace. A board creaked under Jake’s boot and the old man paused. Willie, is that you?”
Jake moved between the old codger and the rifle leaning against the door. Nope, it’s me, you deaf bastard.” He leveled his Sharps on the old man. Now you tell me where you hide your stash and maybe I won’t have to torture you before I kill you.”
The old man was stubborn. Jake had to use his whip on him. But in the end, old Bill told about the stash in the woodpile. Jake didn’t have to even bother about killing him. The old man died of the beating just before Jake was planning to enjoy killing him. Too bad.
Jake wiped the blood from his lash, recoiled it, and hung it on his belt. Then he put the gold poke in his fur vest and went back to his horse. Now he wanted some whiskey and some gambling and good times. Most of all, he wanted revenge. From the last conversation he had had with the little Arapaho gal before he raped her and she hit him over the head and fled, he thought she might have gone to Denver City. That’s where he would look. After that he’d figure out a way to even the score against the Cheyenne.
Jake rode into Denver. The size of the town at the joining of Cherry Creek and the Platte River surprised him. He left his horse at the Elephant Corral, the big stockyard on McGaa Street.
Why do they call it the Elephant Corral?” he grumbled to the Indian stable boy. I don’t see no elephants, just the most horses and oxen and wagons I ever seen in one spot.”
The boy laughed. It’s the biggest, mister, covers most of a city block. Folks that come through here are on their way to see the elephant you know, share the adventure of goin’ West.”
He realized the boy was waiting for a tip, but he cuffed him instead. Redskin bastard. I got no use for Injuns, kids or not.”
Hitting the boy made Jake feel better. He turned and walked slowly down the street, looking around. Yep, this must be the street with all the action, he thought, noticing the stage pulling in. Saloons and bawdy houses lined the street. Loud music drifted from open windows in the late October air and there was a bustle of horses and people up and down the avenue.
He paused before the Progressive Saloon, decided he wanted a drink, and went in and leaned on the bar.
The brawny bartender looked up. What’ll you have?”
I’d like some Georgia moonshine, but reckon I’ll settle for whatever you got.”
The man poured, frowning at him. That accent. You a Johnny Reb?”
Jake savored the whiskey with a sigh. It had been a long time since he’d had whiskey. Stranger, would you believe I don’t give a damn who wins this war? Who owns this place, anyhow?”
Big Ed Chase, but Brett’s the new manager.”
Jake came alert. Bart Brett?”
No, Lon Brett.”
Lon got a brother named Bart?”
How the hell should I know?” The bartender shrugged. Here he comes, ask him yourself.”
Jake turned as the bartender moved on down the bar.
A handsome, gray-haired man in a silk vest and string tie looked him over. Did I hear you asking about Bart?”
Might have been.” Jake looked him over shrewdly. I used to do a little business with him in Chicago. How is he, the old rascal!”
The other hesitated, took a deep breath, and frowned. Don’t you ever take a bath? Let’s talk a little.”
He led Jake to a secluded table in the almost empty saloon. My brother is dead, killed by his most trusted man, who emptied his safe and ran off with one of the girls.”
Al? Aw, mister, you must be mistaken. If ever there was a man loyal to Bart Brett, Al Trovato—”
From what I heard later of the woman, she would have turned any man’s head. They say she was a real looker with almost white-blond hair.”
Jake laughed and lit a stogie. That can’t be anyone but Silver. Yep, she was special, all right. If there was a woman who could cause a man to commit murder and robbery, Silver would be the one.”
You could recognize this girl?” Brett hunched toward him. I
never saw her myself.”
Jake nodded, beginning to sense a chance to make a little money. He could understand a need for revenge; wasn’t that his own driving force? He thought about it a minute, decided there was no point in telling Lon Brett that Jake had been the one to bring the girl to the Velvet Kitten. I wonder if she’s still with Al. The two of them together would be easy to spot, and he might be working as a bartender somewhere.”
The gambler drummed his fingers on the table. The bastard’s dead by now. He sent the Chicago police a confession about the time the war started, taking full blame for everything and saying he was dying.”
Jake smoked his cigar. So why are you looking for the girl?”
The other snorted in derision. She must be partly to blame. A man doesn’t break a friend’s neck and clean out his safe without some help or encouragement from the lady. Obviously he was in love with this Silver; that’s why he was trying to shield her.”
If you’d ever seen her, you’d know she had the tits and body to make a man forget everything but gettin’ between those long, slim legs. Even old trustworthy Al. What makes you think they came out West?”
The Pony Express postmark on that letter he sent the police.”
Jake threw back his head and guffawed. I got news for you, Brett—the Pony ran all the way from St. Joe to San Francisco. That’s a lot of lookin’.”
I know it,” the other said grimly. I’ve checked all up and down the line. Someone in Julesburg who used to work for the Pony thought he remembered hearing of a couple that fit the description.”
Colorado Territory is a big place to look.”
The way I figure it, they might have headed to some boomtown and used my brother’s money to open a saloon. If she’s in the saloon business, sooner or later, she’s bound to end up in Denver, so I came here a couple of weeks ago. When I finally find her, I’ll extract my own justice for her part in Bart’s death.”
Quicksilver Passion Page 24
