“We thank you for your hospitality, but we must go. There is much to prepare before our journey.”
Shadow stood, too, towering over them. He saw in their manners the culture to which Fei was born. In their clothes and status, the life to which she would return. He told himself it was good. Picking up the pouch of gold, he handed it back to Chung. “Don’t forget your gold.”
That earned him a measured gaze and a bow deeper than the others. “As you wish.”
The men went to the foyer. Fei and Lin were waiting, sitting in the chairs, feet tucked slightly to the side, palms folded, eyes lowered. When the uncles entered the room, they stood.
“It is time to go.”
Lin picked up her bag. Chung said something to her and she smiled behind her hand. They turned and headed for the door.
Fei didn’t immediately follow. From across the room, her gaze met his. Shadow searched it for some sign of happiness. Relief. There was nothing there. Just that serene calm. Han motioned to the bag and headed for the door. Fei picked it up and fell into step behind him. Shadow remembered when she’d done that with him, how it had irritated him. It still irritated him. She wasn’t a goddamn slave.
“You just going to let her leave without a word?” Ida asked him.
“We said our goodbyes already.”
Which didn’t explain why he was waiting for Fei to turn around, to look at him, to show him…something.
“In all the years I’ve known you, Michael, you’ve done some questionable things, but you’ve never been a fool.”
Shadow waited. Just before she went out the door, Fei looked back. There was something in that look. Something important, but before he could decipher it she walked out. The door shut quietly behind her.
He wanted to pitch the lemonade across the room. “What do you want from me, Ida?”
“I expect you to do what’s right.”
Right was letting Fei go back to her family that would take care of her and protect her. A family that could offer her a home. Stability. A family that wouldn’t get her killed.
“This is the right thing.”
Ida slapped her dust rag against the furniture. “If you say so.”
HE WAS GOING TO GET DRUNK. Stinking, fall-facedown-in-a-horse-trough drunk. And then if he was really lucky, he was going to get in a fight or two. Anything to let off the steam building up inside him.
The town saloon was actually rather nice. The owner, Jimmy, had owned an establishment back East and had the bar shipped out West, piece by piece. The result was a well-polished counter that sat ten on a good night, eight on any other. Shadow took a seat farthest from the door. The customer to his left grunted and shot him a look when he sat down. Shadow summed him up. Sober enough and big enough to give a good fight if the occasion arose.
Shadow tipped his hat back. “Go on, say it, asshole. Give me an excuse.”
The man turned away. Jimmy came over.
“Evening, Michael.”
“You need some backbone in here, Jimmy. Getting tough to even fish up a decent fight.”
“Then you should simply start a fight or just work out whatever’s chewing on you with whoever is doing the chewing.”
“I don’t want any trouble, Jimmy. Just getting a drink.”
“Then why are you complaining?”
“Maybe because I don’t have a drink.”
Jimmy sighed. “What’ll you have?”
“Whiskey.”
Reaching beneath the counter, Jimmy poured him a glass. Not the rotgut he served the others, but the high-end stuff. Shadow tipped him well for the consideration.
“Leave the bottle.”
“Whatever you say.”
Yes, whatever he said. Everyone did whatever he said. Shadow pounded back the first two shots, grimacing as the liquor burned down to his stomach. He was doing the right thing by Fei, it just felt wrong because he was a selfish-bastard son of a bitch.
“I ain’t drinkin’ in a bar with no stinkin’ Indian.”
Shadow smiled and raised his glass to the patron farther down the bar before taking a drink. “Door’s to your right, be easy enough for you to go through it.”
“So why don’t you hit it?”
This man didn’t have the build of the first, but he had three friends who could more than make up the difference.
Jimmy came over on the pretext of wiping down the bar. “Joking over, Michael, don’t go starting anything. We’ve got a new sheriff. He’s not as understanding as the last.”
“I don’t need understanding. Just a drink.”
“Why don’t you take your bottle on home, finish it there?”
“Because I’m here and I’m comfortable.” So was the bottle. Comfortable in his hand.
“They don’t serve Indians in here.”
He ignored the stranger’s comment. The man was a fool and there was always time to get to fools, but right now he wanted another drink. He could still feel, still think, and that wasn’t acceptable. He could still see that last look Fei had shot him from beneath her lashes as she went out the door. Inscrutable, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been disappointment.
Jimmy snapped out the bar towel and glared at the stranger. “The day you tell me who I can serve is the day you can start paying my bills, Paul. Drink up, Michael.”
Shadow tossed back another shot. Michael. Michael wasn’t who he was. Michael was just a name. He was Shadow Ochoa. Hated. Respected. Admired. Feared. But never fucking ignored. For the past year he’d been Michael, running and hiding, he’d been miserable. He’d done a lot of things the past year that he’d regretted, but none more than hiding who he was so he could be safe.
He missed his brother. He missed the men of Hell’s Eight. He missed their housekeeper Tia’s lectures. He missed the fights, the jokes, the camaraderie. He missed his goddamn home.
Not that he’d regretted killing Amboy. It would have taken years for the legal action to proceed. And for all those years, the man would have just kept sending assassins, and Shadow wasn’t taking chances that one of them might have succeeded. Not with his brother’s happiness on the line. Not with Caine’s happiness on the line. They’d had so little happiness in their lives. It was worth defending.
He poured another drink, and set the bottle on the counter. A man in a black duster, brown hat and a beard that obscured his features came up alongside and reached for the bottle and asked, “Do you mind, stranger?”
Yes, he did. “You touch that and you’re gonna end up bringing back a stump.”
The man laughed and kept reaching.
Shadow smiled as the anger gathered in a cold, hard ball in his gut. He flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar energy running through him. This he knew. This he understood.
The man’s hand touched the bottle. Shadow grabbed his wrist, twisted it up behind the guy’s back and, with a flex of muscle, broke it. With a foot on his ass, Shadow shoved him across the bar. Swearing viciously, the man held his arm. His cronies came up beside him. Shadow smiled.
“It’s always best to wait for an invitation.”
Jimmy said, “Doc’s still in his office, couple doors down.”
The men nodded and hustled their friend out the door.
When Shadow turned back, it was to find Jimmy’s hand on the bottle.
“Whatever’s eatin’ you, Michael, you need to take it home.”
Shadow shook his head.
“I’m not taking a goddamn thing anywhere until I finish my drink.” Inside Shadow, the smile started. This was who he was. Not some white knight, not some stable family man, but this. Shadow Ochoa. Devil. Killer. The bastard nobody messed with.
He sat back down on his stool.
The stool was hard under his ass. The bottle was hard in his hand. The men around him were hard in their ways. This was his world. This is how he lived and this was how he’d die. Maybe women coming into Caine’s, Tracker’s, Sam’s and Tucker’s lives had allowed them to change
midstream, but a woman couldn’t change anything for him and not just because of the price on his head. If he was half the man his brother was, he never would have let Fei go. He would have held her and been what she needed and to hell with the price on his head.
The bell sounded at the stage office down the street. The stage was coming in. When it left tomorrow, Fei would be on it and he wouldn’t see her again. He’d have the memories of her softness and the illusions that had come with it, and she’d have her life. It was a fair trade.
Shadow poured another drink and tossed it back. He didn’t even feel the burn this time. Always a good sign that he was well on his way to drunk. There was a tingling in his fingers. The barricade that kept the demon inside him weakened.
Four men in the corner, who’d been keeping to themselves since they walked in, glanced his way. The one with the long, dirty-blond hair gestured excitedly. The others leaned in. Their voices rose.
He spun his shot glass on the counter, flipping it over. He might get that fight, after all.
“Go home, Michael.”
Michael. He’d picked the name because it sounded normal. Michael didn’t get into trouble. Michael wasn’t an outlaw. Michael paid his bills, laid low, didn’t cause a ruckus. Michael had had a shot at redemption. Too bad Michael didn’t exist.
Chairs rattled as the four men got up. Jimmy reached under the bar for a shotgun. Shadow shook his head.
“No need, Jimmy.”
“Looks like they’re gonna commit some violence on you.”
He nodded. “Looks like the plan.”
The drinks hadn’t hit him yet, but they were starting to warm his stomach. To a man, the yahoos coming at him were a hard-eyed bunch with the lined faces that came from spending too much time outside. Bounty hunters? That would explain why Jimmy was trying to get him out of there.
He turned as they got closer, resting his elbows back against the bar.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?”
“You might be able to.”
He waited. They fanned out around him, blocking him in. Their ages ranged from early twenties to mid-thirties. They wore common enough brown pants and blue shirts. Their hats were equally unspectacular. But their guns were impressive. Worn low, some in single holsters, others in double. Shadow had no doubt they knew how to use them. The one on the right reached for his gun. Shadow had his out and pointed at the other man’s head before it cleared its holster.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Put your gun away, Rufus. We just came to talk.”
“Do you mind, mister?”
Shadow shrugged. “Talk away. Not sure how much longer I’m gonna be listening, but you’ve probably got a good five minutes before the whiskey hits and my attention starts to wander.”
The kid on his right was still entertaining thoughts of pulling that gun.
“Get your hand away from the hogleg, sonny, or I’m going to put this bullet right between your eyes.”
The kid moved his hand away from his gun.
“What do you want to talk about?” Shadow asked the apparent leader.
“Are you the guy that married up with that Chinese gal instead of dancing at the end of a rope?”
They made it sound as it were a sacrifice.
“Yeah.”
“Word is, she found gold a while back.”
There was no point denying it. Fei said she had brought it to the assayer’s office. “I didn’t stay with her long, but she did show me a nugget.”
The men perked up.
The talker pushed his hat back, revealing a receding hairline. “We’d like to buy you a drink while we talk about it.”
“I already bought my drink and there isn’t anything to talk about.”
“We heard it was real.”
That rumor he didn’t need to build. “I saw it.”
“And?”
He spat. “If it was real, do you think I’d be sitting here in this bar drinking cheap whiskey, talking with the likes of you?”
“No call to get nasty.”
“I’ve yet to get to nasty. Right now, I’m working on pleasant.”
They exchanged glances among themselves.
“It was fool’s gold,” Shadow said.
“She had it assayed,” the leader countered.
“Yeah, well, a little problem with that.”
“What do ya mean?”
“The assayer is hot to get under her skirts. He told her what she wanted to hear and then went on to offer his services in helping her.”
“She pretty?” the young one asked. Again Shadow feigned disinterest. “She’s pretty enough that he was willing to put some effort into it.”
“She have any more gold around her house?”
“Well, there’s no house left. That burned to the ground. But, no, she was right proud of that nugget. Paraded that little nugget around like a favorite son. It’s all she had. Saw it shining in the sand. Decided she’d struck gold.”
“She found it on a hill?”
“Yep. Just sitting out there in the middle of the desert, pretty as anything. Went and decided she’d struck it rich.” He shook his head. “Gotta tell you boys, she wasn’t that bright.”
Some of the interest left their faces. Gold wasn’t just sitting out in a sandy desert. Gold was in rock or in streams where rock had been eroded. But gold wasn’t often found sitting atop dry sandy soil.
“So it was a bust?”
“Why the hell do you think I’m sitting here drinking this bottle? I’d thought my ship had come in all because some piss-ass assayer wanted a piece of tail. Shit. I could have been having a good time elsewhere.” He poured another glass of whiskey. “Gentlemen. To better days.”
The leader, a man of nondescript appearance, a missing tooth and a scar on his cheek, put two bits on the counter.
“Sorry to hear that. Next drink’s on me.”
Shadow nodded. “Thank you kindly. It’ll go a long way to soothe the disappointment.”
Jimmy was still standing at the bar with his hand on the gun. Shadow eased the hammer off his revolver and lowered it.
“It’s been nice meeting you boys, but now if you’ll excuse me, I have drinking to do.”
Turning, the men stepped away, headed back to their table and proceeded to talk among themselves.
Jimmy shook his head. “That was close, Michael.”
“Not close enough.”
“They’re a mean bunch, those. They’re always sniffing around here, looking for news that someone struck gold, and every time they leave, someone ends up dead and a claim vacated.”
“Claim jumpers.”
“Yes.” And they were interested in Fei’s claim. Damn good thing she was leaving tomorrow, because, even though he’d put some doubt in their heads, if they were true gold seekers, they wouldn’t let it go.
The door opened, more sunlight spilled into the saloon. A big man stood there. He had a gut that came from good living, but his eyes were still sharp and his hands stayed limber near his guns. Shadow spotted a badge on his vest pocket.
Shit. The sheriff.
Shadow sighed, poured a drink and chugged it. “Evening, Sheriff.”
The sheriff walked over with a hard-eyed look that was meant to intimidate the men he was stalking. The sheriff moved his bottle to the side and leaned against the bar. What the hell was it with everyone touching his bottle?
“Did you break Benny’s wrist?”
“Was Benny the bigoted ass with a big mouth and no common sense?”
“That’d be him.”
“Then, yes, I did.”
“We don’t allow fighting in this town.”
“Since when?”
“Since a month ago when I came in and took over.”
“So you’re the new sheriff in town, coming to clean it up?”
“Aye, that I am.”
“You might want to start by telling the bigoted asses of this town to keep their hands off a man’s b
ooze.”
“I might just do that, but in the meantime, you need to come with me.”
Shadow's Stand Page 19
