She turned away from the horrible sight and hurried off, heading up. It was the only direction she knew to go. How she would ever find the Cherokee and her babies, she had no idea. But she had to try.
River walked casually into the Tennessee Belle, half-expecting to see Emma sitting at one of the tables with the gamblers, or serving them drinks. It would be like Emma to do whatever she could to survive until he came. But if she was expected to take a man upstairs, River had little doubt what her reaction would be; and he worried what would happen to her if she refused.
To his relief, but also his deepening worry, she was nowhere to be seen among the several lovelies who strutted about in dresses cut so low that a tall man could see the nipples just behind the lace that covered them.
He walked to the bar, carefully scanning the room on the way. He saw no one he knew, and he breathed a little easier. If he was recognized, he could be hanged for murder. But he was supposed to be a dead man. That was his only hope.
He felt like a rabbit walking into a mountain lion’s den. But if he handled this right, he just might get away with it. A burly, hard-looking man behind the bar asked him what he wanted to drink.
“Whiskey,” River answered.
He noticed four of the barmaids arguing over something then, all of them eyeing him. Apparently they were deciding which one should go up to the new man and offer her services. In his own humble nature, River underestimated his attraction for white women. To those who watched him now, the tall, well-built, well-dressed man who had just entered the Tennessee Belle was very attractive, and each of them wanted to be the one to spend the night with him.
River saw his chance to find out what he needed to know. He had no interest in the women of the Tennessee Belle, but he had to use anything he could now to find out about Emma. He didn’t dare stay around Knoxville any longer than necessary. The more quickly he could learn what he needed to know, the better. He deliberately eyed all four women as he drank down some of his whiskey. Perhaps a man alone in bed with one of them could discover something.
One of them finally sauntered up to him. Her reddish hair was bundled up into big curls, and her breasts billowed over a red and silver striped dress. She smiled as she came closer, running her eyes over him appreciatively. “Hello. I’m Joanna,” she said softly.
River nodded. “John Beck,” he answered.
She looked at the bartender. “Give him another whiskey, Stu, on the house.”
Stu looked warily at River, then got the drink. Joanna turned back to River. “You’re new in Knoxville?”
“Just passing through. I’m a lawyer, from Ohio. I’m on my way to Atlanta.”
“A lawyer!” She took his arm and led him to a table. “Well, now, I have always heard that lawyers are rich men.”
River gave her a melting smile. “The ones who are established. I do all right. I have received a good offer from two other lawyers in Atlanta.”
Stu brought over the extra drink, and he and Joanna exchanged a knowing look. Every new man was suspect. River did not miss the look, nor did he miss the fact that the big bartender walked immediately to a back door and disappeared behind it. River looked back at Joanna, again giving her a warm smile, moving his dark eyes to study her breasts. This was not his kind of game, but he would play it if it meant finding Emma.
“I’ve been riding a long time,” he said, working on his whiskey. “A man gets hungry for company… and other things. I hope I am not out of line in asking you if you know a place where a man can… well, you know… find a little comfort for the night? If I offend you, I apologize.”
Joanna felt a rush of desire. She didn’t usually have any feelings for any of her customers, but this one was not only beautiful to look at, but soft-spoken. She sensed a quality about him, a man who would not be crude and in a hurry. If she had to take a customer tonight, maybe at least this one would not be such a hideous chore as some of the others.
“I, uh, I’m not sure,” she answered, per her usual orders from Sam. All customers had to be approved by Sam Gates. “I’ll ask my boss.”
His eyebrows arched. “Maybe it’s too offensive for you to ask. I would be glad to ask him for you.”
“It’s all right. You wait right here.” She got up from the table and went through the same door the bartender had entered. River waited, keeping a pleasant look on his face while seething inside. Where was Emma? What had they done to her?
He breathed deeply, allowing the spirit of the Maker of Breath to fill him with the strength he would need to face Sam Gates, if this Joanna brought the man back with her. Sam Gates was surely a man of experience and cunning. He would not be easily fooled. But he didn’t even think River Joe was alive; and if he did suspect, he would surely expect a long-haired, buckskin-clad man to come for him, not the mustached, neatly dressed and well-spoken white man who sat here waiting for Joanna to return.
“It could be him!” Stu was saying in Sam’s office.
“Not a chance,” Joanna returned. “This isn’t a man who runs around the woods chasing bears and living like a heathen. He’s too well spoken, and look how he’s dressed.”
Sam eyed them both disdainfully. “I’ll go talk to him myself,” he said with a note of disgust. He walked around them with deliberate authority, trying to hide his own nervousness. Joanna and Stu followed.
In the main room, two other barmaids had started talking to River, while men gambled and a man at the piano pounded out bawdy songs. Sam walked closer to River, shooing away the two women. Again a sickening dread flowed through River as he moved his eyes to meet those of the well-dressed man who stood before him. River had no doubt it was Sam Gates. He nodded.
“Sir?” He stood up and put out his hand. “You must be Joanna’s ‘boss,’ as she put it. I’m John Beck.”
Gates took his hand, and River chose to give the man a light handshake, the kind a softened city man would give. He dared not squeeze this man’s hand until it broke, as he so dearly wanted to do. He felt the Maker of Breath was with him, was proud of the kindness he kept in his eyes and the warm smile he managed to display.
“Sam Gates,” Sam answered, letting go of River’s hand. “Joanna tells me you’re just passing through on your way to Atlanta.”
“Yes, sir.” River looked around the room. “This is a real nice place you have here. I asked as I came through town, and everybody said this was the place for a man to come for the best whiskey in Knoxville.”
Sam nodded, smiling, gauging the tall, handsome man before him. Yes, he could be the white Indian, but he seemed too well spoken, and he had every appearance of being the lawyer he said he was. His clothes were immaculate and of the latest style. His hands were clean and soft. This was not the mean, vengeful, white Indian that Tommy had described. The one called River Joe would not be able to stand and look him straight in the eye as this man was doing without giving away the anger and revenge that lay beneath the smile. Sam Gates knew his men. This surely was not the infamous River Joe.
“What do you think of having our man Jackson for president?” Sam asked, testing River’s knowledge.
River folded his arms in a scholarly pose. “Well, we have a couple of years to decide, but he is certainly giving President Adams a time over states’ rights. I think for states’ rights alone we need to vote for Jackson. He’s a firm believer in keeping the federal government out of state affairs; and even though I’m from Ohio, I don’t think the federal government has a right telling the southern states that their citizens can’t own slaves. I’ve been studying up on such things, since I’m on my way to Atlanta to set up a practice. I figure with all the arguments flying over slavery, the south is a good place to do business for the present.”
Sam smiled and nodded. “I like your thinking. And I have a feeling Jackson can help us get rid of the damned Indians,” he added cleverly. If this man was River Joe, he would not like such a statement. But River was ready, and his face bright
ened at the remark. Inwardly he thanked the Cherokee leader John Ross for keeping all of them so well informed on what was happening in the government. Because of the Cherokee fight to stay in Tennessee and Georgia, many of them, including River Joe, knew all about what was going on with the federal government. And the Cherokee were closely tied to Andrew Jackson, had fought under his leadership in the War of 1812. They knew now that Jackson would probably turn on them if he became president, knew the man’s feelings about states’ rights. If his intentions at the moment were to test River’s knowledge of the law, Sam Gates could not have picked a better subject.
“Exactly,” he answered Gates. “Dealing with Indians is as much a matter of states’ rights as slavery. It’s true they were here first, but we have proven that things must change in this country now. We are ordained by God, I am convinced, to build this country into the truly great and powerful nation it can be. Andrew Jackson is the man who can see that it happens.”
Sam looked from River to Joanna, who stood grinning. “You see? I knew you’d like him, Sam.”
Sam chuckled. “Joanna tells me you were asking about, uh, some manly comforts for the night.”
River grinned. “I hope I didn’t insult the lady,” he answered.
Sam grinned wryly. “On the contrary. For the right price, the, uh, ‘lady’ can afford you those comforts right here.”
River’s eyebrows arched in feigned surprise, as his dark eyes moved to take an appreciative inventory of Joanna. “Well, well,” he said seductively. “How lucky can a man get?” He looked back at Sam Gates. “What is the price?”
“Thirty dollars.”
River grinned. “She must be very good.”
“The best,” Sam answered. “Young and firm.”
Never had River’s willpower been more tested. Again Sam Gates watched him carefully, and again he caught no sign of animosity in the tall, handsome John Beck.
“You can pay Joanna in her room,” Sam said to River. “If you don’t pay, I, uh, have men who will find you and make you pay. I don’t mean to sound rude, Mr. Beck, but I like my customers to understand how things are here.” He leaned closer. “And don’t follow Joanna up right away. We don’t make bold public displays of our extra activities around here, although most of my customers know what goes on. That’s why they come here. My girls see that they get what they pay for.”
Sam smiled almost wickedly, and River felt his chest tighten. He could see through the glittering dark eyes of Sam Gates, into the man’s hideous soul. He bowed slightly. “Well, then, I should be in store for a very pleasant evening. Thank you so much, Mr. Gates.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Beck. And do what you can to get Jackson elected next term, will you? He’s one of our Tennessee boys, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I know,” River answered. He watched Gates as the man turned away, pulling a cigar from his coat pocket and lighting it, walking to another table to talk to someone else. Never had River been more glad he had paid attention to John Ross and all the news from Washington. More than that, never had he been happier to be white. For once it had helped him. Knowing both worlds could be an advantage. He had proven that tonight.
He sat back down, moving his eyes to the woman called Joanna. “I’m awfully tired,” he said with a gentle grin.
She laughed lightly, bending close to him so that he could see her nipples. “Room number six,” she said softly in his ear. “Wait about fifteen minutes.”
She sauntered away and up the stairs. River watched, wondering if poor Emma was up there somewhere. He wanted to charge up the stairs and tear into every room until he found her, but that would only get him killed.
Instinct told him that never in his life would he have to be more careful than now. This was more dangerous than stalking a bear or trying to hide from raiders. This “civilized” territory was more dangerous than all the wild mountains through which he had traveled, and the men in this place more cunning and dangerous than the wiliest Indian or the most hateful settler. This was a place of lies and deceit and murder, and the man who owned the Tennessee Belle dealt in woman slavery.
What had Sam Gates done with Emma? Somehow he had to get that information out of the woman called Joanna.
He finished his whiskey and ordered one more. But he only toyed with it, worried that too much whiskey would dull his senses. He had to be alert this night. One way or another, Sam Gates would die before dawn! He had made it into the lion’s den. Before he left, he would kill the lion.
Chapter 24
Joanna opened the door and River entered the musky room. He felt amost dizzy at the thought of Emma in such a place. He watched Joanna approach with drinks in her hands. She had changed into a feathered robe, just thin enough for a man to make out the naked figure beneath it.
“Want another drink?” she asked, holding out the glass.
“No, thank you,” he answered. “I like to be fully alert when I’m with a woman, if you know what I mean.”
Joanna laughed lightly, setting the glasses aside. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve had men come up here so full of booze they work the rest of the night at performing. It’s absolutely humorous.” She put her hands to his sides and ran them down over his hips. “I have a feeling that won’t be any problem at all for a man like you.”
River pulled her close, running a hand over her hips, feeling every curve through the thin robe. He did not want this hard, painted woman. But she could be his only hope for finding Emma. He met her mouth with a convincing kiss that drew forth the response he wanted. He had to soften her, had to gain her confidence. His hands detected the odd indentions on her lower back and bottom. They felt like scars, but he said nothing for the moment.
“My, my,” Joanna said as he pulled away then. “This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” She pulled his jacket off his shoulders.
“I have to be honest with you, Joanna,” he said as she threw the jacket aside. “I knew I could find what I wanted here. Someone in another saloon told me to come here if I wanted more than whiskey and cards. I just wasn’t sure how easy it would be to get what I wanted. They said Sam Gates was a careful man.”
He watched her eyes harden slightly. “Careful isn’t the word for it. In fact, you’re quite lucky, Mr. Beck.” She pulled down his fancy suspenders and unhooked his pants, running her fingers along his legs as she pulled them down. She knew her job well, but River was too full of Emma to be affected by her skilled fingers and the light kisses she planted along his legs. “Sit down and I’ll pull off your boots and these pants,” she said.
“Why am I lucky?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. She pulled at his high, Wellington boots, tugging one off.
“Sam thought you might be somebody else—some man he’s thinking might come by here looking for him—and not for friendly purposes, if you know what I mean.” She tugged on the other boot.
“I see,” he answered, his heart quickening. Perhaps she would be so talkative he wouldn’t have to ask too many questions on his own. “Well, I’m glad I wasn’t mistaken for this other person. I might not have been able to come up here with you.”
She snickered. “It would have been worse than that.” She met his eyes. “You might be dead.”
His eyebrows arched. “That bad, is it?”
She pulled off his pants. “Some big Indian—well, not an Indian really. A white man. But he was raised by the Indians and he looks and acts like one himself, so I’m told.” She got to her knees, moving her hands along his thighs to the buttons of his knee-length cotton underwear. She began undoing the buttons, and he allowed his purely animal instincts to come forward. How was he to keep her talking if he did not convince her that his intentions were what he said they were? He gripped her hair as she toyed with him.
“This problem with the Indian—must be over a woman,” he said, his voice deliberately gruff with pleasure. “That’s usually what men are at odds about,
either women or money.”
She smiled, looking up at him. “A pretty little blond girl that both Sam and the white Indian think they own.” She stood up, opening her robe. “Some say the Indian is dead, but Sam doesn’t believe it, and the girl finally admitted he’s still alive. Still, I don’t think the Indian would come to a place like Knoxville, unless he wants to die. Sam is surrounded by good men. The Indian would never get to him.”
She let her robe fall to the floor. Her body was firm and shapely, and River wondered about the scar on her belly, but again he asked no questions. Joanna smiled and knelt down again. “Stand up and I’ll get rid of your underwear for you.”
River rose, fighting feelings of guilt in letting his manliness show as she pulled off the underwear. For the moment he had no choice but to go along with her. She moved up his legs and thighs, kissing at him expertly. “I’ll make sure you get your thirty dollars’ worth,” she told him, pushing at him to sit back down on the bed. She stood up again, bending forward and cradling his head against her breasts as she moved a leg to each side of him, straddling his lap and then playfully pushing him back onto the bed.
“I shouldn’t have told you about the white Indian,” she said. She hovered over him, brushing her breasts against his lips. “I’m talking about things that don’t interest you and things I probably shouldn’t be talking about at all. I don’t usually do that. It’s just that you’re… I don’t know… you make me want to talk. You’re an interesting man, John Beck, and you sure are the handsomest man who ever came through Knoxville.”
She sat up, rubbing against him as she began unbuttoning his shirt. River ran his hands gently along her thighs and up over her breasts.
“I don’t mind,” he said, hoping to keep the conversation going. “I need to talk, no matter what the subject. I’ll be moving on in the morning. What happens here at the Belle doesn’t make much difference to me. I’ve been a long time traveling, mostly alone. I need to talk.” He massaged one nipple teasingly. “I must say you have my curiosity going now. Where is the pretty little blond girl? She work here now?”
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