Jack looked back and found Clayton leaning down over Sumner, his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
“He startled me. Came up from behind and put a hand on my shoulder. I hit him before I even knew what was happening.” Jack took a deep, frustrated breath. Why was he following me, anyway?”
“I don’t think…he took too kindly to the way you…pushed him aside…,” Clayton said. “Either that…or he went a runnin’ for the same reason I did…He just had to know…what happened…”
“He shouldn’t have grabbed me like that.”
“I reckon he’d do it different if’n he had the chance,” Clayton said with a grin. “Remind me never to surprise you in a dark alley.”
“It was an accident,” Jack insisted.
“Oh, I believe you, but I doubt Jeffers is gonna be as understandin’ when he learns you knocked out his right-hand man. He ain’t the forgivin’ type. When he finds out, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”
“Is Jeffers as bad as he used to be?”
“Worse,” Clayton answered. “Rotten to the core and then some. Most folks steer clear of him day or night. Shows you how bad we all want a drink if’n we’re willin’ to set foot in Jeffers’ speakeasy to get it.”
Suddenly things fell into place in Jack’s mind, sending a sickening feeling racing across his gut. “That’s Jeffers’ place?” he asked, shocked. “What the hell is he doing in Silas Aldridge’s cellar?”
“I don’t know for certain if Silas is in on it, on account of he ain’t round much anymore. Word round town is he’s sick,” Clayton replied, looking away from Jack as he added, “but there ain’t no doubt that Maddy’s a part of it, is there…”
Jack held his tongue. What could he say? Clayton was right. Jack had seen it with his own eyes; Maddy had been behind the bar, she’d had a bottle of whiskey in her hand when he’d first seen her, and it was her father’s cellar. What other explanation could there be? She was involved in Jeffers’s illegal liquor operation.
And I was sent here by the Bureau to do a job…and if I do it, Maddy will be put behind bars…
“I reckon part of this is my fault,” Clayton said.
“How do you figure?”
“ ’Cause I knew Maddy was there,” he replied. “Hell, she’s poured me a few drinks since the place opened, but I was so happy to see you I plumb forgot ’bout the history ’tween you, which is pretty stupid of me ’cause there ain’t no one in town don’t ’member how the two of you was together, or how hard it was on her when you left. I shouldn’t have took you there.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jack replied honestly.
“I feel bad ’bout it all the same,” Clayton admitted. “Tell you what, how ’bout we go back and I’ll buy the first drink.”
“I appreciate it, but I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
“You sure? After all you done been through, I reckon you’ve earned a drink or two.”
“Maybe some other time.”
“Fair enough.” Clayton nodded. “But what’re we gonna do ’bout him?” he asked, nodding down at Sumner. “Maybe we oughta get him back to the speakeasy.”
“Leave him,” Jack said. “When he comes around, he’ll be madder than a bee with a bear’s paw stuck in its hive. It’ll be better if we’re as far away from him as possible when that happens.”
“Sounds like good advice to me,” Clayton agreed.
They said their good-byes and Jack headed back into the night, thinking about how some folks would look at what had happened to him as a stroke of good luck, but to him it seemed nothing but the worst.
Maddy finally stopped running only when she made it home. Even then, she expected Jack to be right behind her. Ever since she’d left the speakeasy, she’d heard him running to catch her; whenever she looked over her shoulder, he’d been there, relentless, getting ever closer, but she’d lost sight of him when crossing Main Street and hadn’t seen him since.
But that didn’t mean she was safe.
Resting against the gate in the picket fence her father had built with his own hands before the arthritis had robbed him of their use, Maddy stared up the walk at the darkened house. Everything was still and silent. She realized that no one inside, not Helen or her father, knew what had happened to her.
Maddy looked up at the second floor window and her bedroom beyond. Years earlier, she’d sneaked out of that very window to be with Jack; now, all she wanted was to get back inside. For a moment she had the hope that it was all an unwelcome dream, that at any moment she’d wake, the sun on her face, and look out the window at where she now stood and find no one there.
Jack…how can he be back…? It has to be a dream.
But Maddy knew she was lying to herself. She’d touched him! He’d stood right in front of her! She’d slapped his face! It was useless to deny what had happened. Running away had been another mistake, a childish act of desperation, but she couldn’t face him; she just couldn’t!
By morning, if it took that long, everyone in town would know what had happened, that Jack Rucker was back and that their reunion had been anything but straight out of a pulp romance. What people actually saw would mix with rumor, with hearsay and gossip, until it was unrecognizable. Wherever she went, there would be unwelcome stares, whispered words, probably even titters of laughter. Her reputation would be in tatters…again…
And then there was Jeffers…
She could only imagine how upset he’d be that she’d left the speakeasy. As dangerous as he seemed while calm, she could only imagine how fearsome he’d be when irate. Maddy had no idea what Sumner would tell him, though she had little doubt Jeffers would think her weak. She couldn’t really blame him; her emotions had put them all in danger, regardless of what Sheriff Utley had said.
But right then, Maddy didn’t care. All she wanted was to go inside, check on her father and Helen, and get in bed. Somehow, she’d slip off to sleep, wrap herself in a pleasant dream, and, if only for a little while, escape her troubles.
Chapter Eleven
JEFFERS GRIMM GROANED, then cursed at the thin sliver of sunlight that managed to slip through the curtains, falling unwelcome across his face as he lay in bed. Squinting, he blinked a couple of times, struggling to wake. For a moment he was unsure of where he was, the lingering effects of a bottle of rum clouding his head and making the room twist and turn.
Shading his eyes, he sat still, listening with growing confusion to the sound of light snoring, rising and then falling. Turning his head, he found a woman lying on her face beside him, her mousy blond hair falling over her bare shoulders and obscuring her face. Slowly, memories of the previous night floated back.
It was then that he started getting angry.
Whipping off the worn blanket, Jeffers got out of bed, stumbled across the room, and threw open the door to his cabin. He stood naked in the sunlight, it was undoubtedly more afternoon than morning, and emptied his bladder onto the ground. Absently, he scratched at his whiskers.
“All the goddamn things I gotta deal with…,” he mumbled.
The cabin Jeffers lived in was at the base of the foothills east of Colton. It wasn’t much to look at and had begun listing to one side. His grandfather had built the place when he’d first come to Montana decades before and since then it had been passed down to successive generations, each of them getting a more run-down, dilapidated property than the last. It was less than half the size of the mercantile’s cellar, with busted windowpanes, furniture that was missing legs, and a stove with a partially blocked pipe that filled the place with smoke when it was lit.
While meticulous and ordered in his criminal dealings, Jeffers was anything but that at home. Stubbed-out cigar butts littered dirty dishes, mingling with clothes tossed onto the floor, marked here and there by an empty liquor bottle, dropped where it had been finished. He’d noticed a few visitors wrinkling their noses at the lingering smell of rot, but it had been that way for so long that he no l
onger noticed. Outside, weeds grew everywhere, even as high as the bumpers of his truck.
Still unsteady on his feet, Jeffers wobbled over to the stove, shoved some wood inside, struck a match, and put it to the kindling. Reaching for the old coffeepot, he knocked over a stack of empty bean cans, his usual choice for dinner, sending them falling to the floor in a clatter.
“Quit makin’ so much noise,” the woman said from the bed, her voice a mumble since her face was still pressed into the dirty mattress.
Annoyed, Jeffers purposefully made even more noise, dropping the lid of the coffeepot, rapping a spoon against the stove, even though the clanging did nothing but aggravate his own hangover.
“Aw, Jesus,” she swore, smothering herself with her pillow to quiet the unwanted sounds.
Deb Wehmeyer wasn’t a whore in the usual sense; while she didn’t charge anyone for a roll in the sheets, she was willing to spread her legs for almost any man in the county providing she got something out of it: a drink, a blouse; some nights, even attention would do. She was getting a bit long in the tooth, a bit plumper than usual, but whenever Jeffers came calling she did what he asked. Last night, after he’d discovered what had happened at the speakeasy in his absence, he’d taken a couple of bottles of booze, picked her up, and made her screams fill the cabin and spill out into the night. He’d done all of the things he wanted to do to Maddy, though he knew she’d never be as accommodating as Deb. His hope had been that it would soothe his anger, and for a while it had.
But now it was back with a vengeance.
Once the coffee was finished, Jeffers poured the steaming liquid into a mostly clean tin cup, took a bitter drink, and thought about all the ways in which his life had gone to hell.
Jeffers’s night had begun much differently than it had ended. Just as he was about to leave for the speakeasy, he’d gotten a call from Jimmy Luciano telling him to come to an important meeting and not to be late. Without any other options, he’d entrusted the speakeasy to Sumner, believing that the boy had proven himself. Besides, with Maddy there, Jeffers felt he had no reason for concern.
Pulling up to Luciano’s place, Jeffers had been nervous; he’d read a few dime novels and seen enough serials where the Mob called a meeting to rub out a stool pigeon to cause his imagination to run wild. Instead, Jimmy met him with a big grin and a stiff drink, telling him how pleased he was with their partnership. He explained to Jeffers that it wouldn’t be long before they’d come for what was being stored, but that there was going to be another load crossing the border, a big one. Jimmy even mentioned that Capone himself had heard what Jeffers had done for the organization and that it looked as if he’d have a hell of a future. There had been more drinks, good cigars, food, and laughter. Leaving, Jeffers had felt as if he were finally somebody, as if he’d soon be more than the only fish in a pond as small as Colton.
And then he’d come back to the speakeasy and found that his big plans had hit one hell of a snag.
Jeffers first realized that something was wrong the second he set foot inside the speakeasy; Sumner was nowhere to be seen. Instantly Jeffers was furious. If there was one thing I’d told that stupid son of a bitch time and time again…Every head in the place turned to look at him; Jeffers heard plenty of whispering, as well as the titter of a woman’s laughter. He understood that he was the only one who didn’t know what had happened, which only made him angrier.
Stomping through the speakeasy, Jeffers found Sumner at the bar. The boy was slumped forward on a stool, resting his head on his arm, his mouth open and a wet towel pressed against his nose. It looked like he was sleeping, drunk, or both.
But that wasn’t the only surprise.
Seth Pettigrew stood behind the bar, pouring glasses of liquor, taking money, and placing it in the cash box. His cheeks were the rosy red that only people well oiled with alcohol had, his head lolling sleepily on his shoulders as if it took effort to keep it upright. Jeffers’s blood boiled. It was only later that he realized he shouldn’t have been so angry with the old lawyer; though it undoubtedly cost Jeffers a full bottle of booze poured down the man’s throat, at least someone was still taking money, and in that regard Seth was probably the most trustworthy man in the room.
“Want sumthin’ to wet yer whishle?” Seth asked Jeffers, the words a slurry leaving his mouth. “There’s shtill plenty to go round…”
Jeffers had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting. “Where’s Maddy?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Seth looked around as if it was the first time he’d even considered her absence. “I guess she left,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Goddamn it,” Jeffers muttered.
Snatching Sumner by the arm, Jeffers roughly yanked the boy from his stool and dragged him toward the back of the cellar, determined to get answers. Sumner stumbled along, unable to get his feet under him, moaning and groaning as if he was in pain. In the dark recesses of the room, Jeffers grabbed Sumner by the throat and slammed him into the locked storeroom door, behind which his entire future lay; as the back of his head struck hard Sumner yelped and then began whimpering, sounding more like a child instead of the man he wished to be.
“What in the hell went on here tonight?” Jeffers growled, inches from Sumner’s trembling face.
“It…it weren’t my fault, Jeffers,” Sumner pleaded. “I swear it weren’t!” As he spoke, the towel slid from his face, giving Jeffers a look at the devastation that had been wrought; even in the murky gloom of the cellar, he could see the swelling, the new crookedness of the boy’s nose, and even the beginnings of the black eyes that would last for weeks.
“Who did this to you?”
“I didn’t want to let him in; honest I didn’t!” Sumner cried. “Clayton Newmar brung him, acted all surprised I didn’t know who he was, tryin’ to make me look stupid! I told him I ain’t never seen him before, but—”
“Just tell me who he was!” Jeffers snapped; from the terrified look in Sumner’s eyes, it wouldn’t take much more and he’d be in tears.
“Rucker,” the young man answered, his teeth chattering. “He said his name was Jack Rucker.”
Jeffers froze. Of all the names he’d expected to hear, Jack Rucker’s was definitely not one of them. How could it be? He’d been gone for years, long enough that everyone in Colton, himself included, figured he was never coming back. But if what Sumner was saying was true, and judging by the damage on his face he wasn’t lying, then things had suddenly become much more complicated.
“Why’d he beat you like that?”
Sumner recounted the whole story; he explained how everyone had been so happy to see Rucker back in town, how the room had been silent when Maddy came out from behind the bar, how she’d slapped his face before running away, how Jack had barreled into him when he followed, and finally how he’d given pursuit, determined to make the man pay for knocking him over that way, only to get punched in the face.
“You should’ve stayed here,” Jeffers snarled. “Leavin’ meant there weren’t no one to watch the place.”
“I know,” Sumner whined. “But I was just so damn mad! That bastard got lucky, s’all! If he hadn’t surprised me, I woulda showed him a thing or two! He’d a been damn sorry for what he done!”
Jeffers didn’t correct his bravado; truth was, Sumner was dangerous in his own right, but there was a lot more bark than bite. If Jeffers remembered the kind of fella Jack Rucker had been, he would’ve been able to handle Sumner even if the boy had brought a brass band to announce his coming.
But Sumner’s tale did explain one thing…
“Maddy ran off when she saw him?” Jeffers asked.
“After she slapped him,” Sumner replied. “What in the hell’s up with that, anyway? The two of them have a history?”
Jeffers was surprised that Sumner didn’t already know the story; everyone else in town did. Maybe it was because he’d been too young when Jack left, or maybe it was because he wasn’t the sharpest knife in the dr
awer.
“Somethin’ like that,” Jeffers answered.
What happened had been an inconvenience, one that could’ve been worse, but Jeffers felt uneasy. Something nagged at him. If nothing else, Jack Rucker would be another obstacle in his pursuit of Maddy, but one that he could take care of; unlike Sumner, he wouldn’t go down so easily. Nothing was going to stand in the way of Jeffers’s becoming rich and important like Jimmy Luciano, or even Al Capone. If there was another problem, he’d solve it, with either his fists or a bullet, but it would be taken care of.
“You ever do somethin’ like that ’gain,” Jeffers threatened Sumner, “and a broken nose is gonna be the least of your worries.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…,” the young man repeated, finally dissolving into tears, the fear finally overwhelming him.
Jeffers left Sumner determined to take back control of his speakeasy and to find something, or someone, on whom he could take out his mounting frustrations.
Jeffers swirled the last bit of coffee around in the bottom of the cup, watching the dregs float this way and then that. He’d been thinking about what had happened for so long that the brew had grown cold in his hand. Absently, he flung the last bit into the sink before letting the cup fall with a loud clatter.
Deb groaned again before rolling over, leaving her saggy, bare breasts exposed in the same sliver of sunlight that had woken him.
Seeing her like that made him think of Maddy.
Ever since he’d first approached her with the idea of using the mercantile’s basement as a speakeasy, he’d wanted her. The more he watched her work behind the bar, the more he stared at her curves, his feelings of desire grew to infatuation. He saw her as something beautiful he could defile, someone he could bring down and make roll around in the muck of his life.
But now Jack Rucker’s return complicated things. Jeffers wasn’t a big enough fool to believe they were on equal footing for Maddy’s affections; truthfully, he didn’t give a damn. What worried him was that Maddy’s thoughts would be a mess; she’d be moody, unpredictable, and that threatened the sweet deal he had going with the smuggled booze. If she got it in her head that she wanted out of their partnership, then Jeffers could be left twisting in the wind and lose everything he’d worked so hard for. She had to stay levelheaded long enough for Jeffers to bring in the last load from Canada and for Luciano to come for it all. After that, she could do whatever the hell she wanted; Jeffers would be off to bigger and better things. He’d have a talk with her, something similar to the one he’d given to Sumner, threaten her until she saw it his way. Maybe he’d have to have a talk with Rucker, too.
By Starlight Page 11
