by Jake Logan
“Leave her alone, Fenster,” Slocum said. He looked down at the man, whose face was contorted in rage.
“You stay out of this, Slocum,” Fenster snarled.
“What’s going on here, Lydia?” he asked. She gripped the bowl in her arms as if daring anyone to wrest it from her grasp.
Jasmine bounded on to the stage, her dress fanning the candle flames that served as footlights. She glared at Fenster, who tried to shrug out of Slocum’s grasp.
“Leroy’s trying to take our tip money,” Lydia said.
“I deserve my cut,” Fenster said, a bitter bite to his words.
“That’s our money,” Jasmine said. “You have no right to any of it, Leroy.”
“Read your contract, Jasmine. I get a percentage of all the money you and Lydia take in.”
“Not our tip money,” Lydia wailed, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch.
“That’s right,” Jasmine said.
Fenster tried to pull away from Slocum, but Slocum pulled him backward by the collar.
“Let go of me,” Fenster said.
“I’ll let go of you when you begin to act like a gentleman,” Slocum said.
“You’ve got no right,” Fenster growled. His lips curled in a feral snarl as he glared up at Slocum, his eyes filled with the fires of rage.
“I’m taking the right, Fenster,” Slocum said. “That money in the bowl is the audience’s way of showing their appreciation for these ladies. It was meant for them, not for you.”
Slocum reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a five-dollar note. He held it out to Lydia.
“Here,” he said. “This is for you and your mother. I enjoyed your fine singing.”
Lydia smiled and reached out for the bill.
Jasmine looked up at Slocum, an expression of gratitude on her face.
Fenster fumed, but he could go nowhere, and Lydia still embraced the bowl of money now graced with another greenback. His eyes rolled around in their sockets like a pair of ball bearings blackened by smoke. His face contorted into a shriveled mass of quivering flesh.
“All right, all right,” Fenster spluttered. “You win this round, ladies, but—”
“No buts, Fenster,” Slocum interrupted. “That tip money belongs to the performing ladies. Your commission comes from contracts you arrange for their performances. Two separate things.”
“You ain’t no lawyer, Slocum,” Fenster spat.
“No, I’m not a lawyer, but you’re only an employee of these women. They can fire you if they want to and all you’ll have is a pile of blank paper you can take with you to the outhouse.”
“Damn you, Slocum,” Fenster said.
“If you cause any more trouble, I’ll throw you off this stage, Fenster. Now, get the hell out of here and forget about that bowl of money.”
“I—I . . .” Fenster sputtered, unable to retort.
“You’d better leave, Leroy,” Jasmine said. “Lydia will be up in a while to look over those new contracts, won’t you, Lydia?”
“I might,” Lydia said.
“And when you two finish talking—reasonably, I hope—she’ll bring the contracts to me. Tomorrow, or the next day, I’ll let you know if we’ll sign with you as our manager.”
“You can’t just dump me, Jasmine,” Fenster said. “I got you where you are. I’m building your names. I’m your only hope of success.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Leroy,” Jasmine said. “A man from Bozeman owns saloons all over Montana and spoke to me about playing in Great Falls, Helena, and Missoula.”
“What? Who is he?”
Jasmine smiled.
“I don’t think he would like you as our manager, Leroy. He said he could keep us working year-round, and there would be no middleman.”
“I’d like to—”
“You’ve had your say, Fenster,” Slocum said. “Now, get out or I’ll throw you out. In the street.”
Slocum released his hold on Fenster’s collar. Fenster huffed and puffed, but he turned and bounded off the stage, stalking across the room like a little martinet.
“Ma, did you really speak to a man from Bozeman?” Lydia asked.
“No, but I’m sure we will as news of our performances gets around.”
Slocum looked at Jasmine with admiration.
She turned to Lydia.
“Take that bowl up to our room,” she said. “Count it and hide it under the mattress. Then you talk to Leroy and tell him we’ll only pay him five percent from now on.”
“Really?” Lydia said, her face aglow.
“Really, darling. Now run along. John and I will join you shortly.”
Lydia traipsed off the stage, holding the bowl as if it were a large golden egg. Jasmine watched her go.
“You have a lot of spunk,” Slocum said to her.
“So does Lydia,” she said. “Shall we go upstairs or have a drink in the saloon?”
“Jenner and I need to talk to you, Jasmine. It would be more private in your room.”
“Or yours,” she said softly, sidling next to him and slipping her arm inside his. “I don’t really need a drink tonight. I just want to kick off my high-heeled shoes and relax.”
“My room is pretty bare, but I do have a bottle of good bourbon.”
“I could develop a taste for bourbon.”
“I warn you,” he said, “it’s fatal. You won’t want to drink anything else for the rest of your life.”
“I could live with that, I think.”
He patted the back of her hand.
“My room it is,” he said. “We’ ll let Dave Jenner know.”
They walked, arm in arm, through the nearly empty room. One of the waiters went to the stage carrying a long brass rod with a hollow bell on one end. He snuffed out all the candles, and the stage went dark.
Jasmine looked back when she reached the hallway.
“It looks so sad,” she said. “That empty stage. Tugs at my heart.”
“You brought life to it,” he said. “You and Lydia.”
“Yes, we did, didn’t we?”
The coroner, one Jove Abelard, and his minions were just going out the front door of the hotel, Tinsley’s shrouded body on a stretcher. Jenner watched them go then turned to find Slocum and Jasmine emerging from the hallway. The lobby was empty, and there was nobody at the desk.
“Dave,” Slocum said, “we’re going up to my room for a drink. All I have is bourbon.”
Jenner smiled.
“That’s good enough for me. Did you talk to Miss Lorraine yet?”
“Not yet.”
“What about?” Jasmine asked.
“It can wait,” Slocum said, and whirled her to the stairs. Jenner trailed behind them.
She touched the butt of the outlaw’s gun sticking out of Slocum’s belt as they ascended the stairs.
“Do you need so many guns?” she whispered, a trace of mirth in her voice.
“A souvenir,” he said.
“I’ll bet you have another gun or two hidden away somewhere on your person,” she said. Slocum detected a decidedly teasing tone in her voice.
“One or two,” he said.
He did have a hideout gun, what some people called a Remington belly gun. That one was his ace in the hole.
“I’d like to see all your guns sometime,” she said, and there was a husk to her voice that brought a flush of crimson to his face.
“I didn’t think guns interested the ladies much,” he said.
“Some guns do,” she said, and pinched him on the waist.
The walk down the hallway to his room seemed to take forever. Jasmine clung to him like a girl at her first school dance with her beau.
He was sorry that Jenner was right behind them.
But, he thought, he would see to it that the sheriff did not stay long. After all, they both had an early start in the morning.
Slocum opened the door to his room.
“Wait here until I light the lamp,” he
told Jasmine. He walked into the dark room and fumbled with the matches and lamp. Finally, the wick caught flame and light spilled into the modest room.
“Welcome,” he said to Jasmine as she entered through the door.
Jenner followed and went straight to the highboy, where the liquor bottle was gleaming in the lamplight. There were extra glasses, as Mallory had promised. Jenner poured himself a drink.
“Anyone else?” he said.
“I’ll pour ours,” Slocum said, with the emphasis on the last word so that Dave could catch his drift. “Set yourself down, Dave.”
Jasmine went to the small divan and sat down. She looked like a garden in bloom, with her patent leather high-heeled shoes, her slender legs, and the organdy dress with the ruffled bodice.
Slocum thought she looked perfectly at home. He thought she would look at home and comfortable anywhere she happened to be. She was beautiful. She was lovely. And, he was sure, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
19
Jenner sat down in a chair at the table. He faced Jasmine on the divan. Slocum drew Macgregor’s pistol from his belt and put it in a bureau drawer, unbuckled his gun belt and hung it on a chair, then walked to the bar, turning to speak to Jasmine.
“Two fingers or four?” he asked.
“One finger,” she said. “One dainty little finger.”
Slocum laughed and poured bourbon into two glasses.
“Water?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
He poured water in another glass and carried her drink and the glass to her, set it on the small table in front of the divan. He walked back and got his own drink, two fingers of clear amber liquid. He sat down next to her on the divan, raised his glass to her.
“To a fine performance,” he said.
“Thank you.” She took a small sip of her drink. Slocum watched her. She sloshed the bourbon around in her mouth and swallowed, then gasped for breath.
“My,” she said, “that is a bit stout.”
Jenner and Slocum both laughed and swallowed mouthfuls of bourbon.
“Jasmine,” Jenner said as he leaned toward her in his chair, “I can’t stay long. Slocum and I are going after Bruno and his gang early in the morning.”
“You are?” she said, with a sidelong glance at Slocum.
“Yes, and I have a request to make of you,” Jenner said.
“Oh?”
“Yes. I, we, that is, John and I think you and your daughter are in great danger. I overheard Bruno talking to one of his men about coming here to kidnap you and Miss Lydia.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “Bruno is a vicious man and he can’t get over his anger about my divorcing him.”
“He’s a very dangerous man, as you well know. He’s already killed several people and may have raped those two old women.”
“Bruno a rapist?” Jasmine shook her head. “No, Bruno has trouble with women. He had a problem with me. He—well, I won’t go into it here, but in his mind, all women are evil, and when it comes to, well, you know, he’s a failure.”
Jenner sat up straight. Her words caught him by surprise. Slocum, too, seemed taken aback, but he showed no sign that he was either shocked or surprised by what Jasmine had said.
“Don’t look so shocked, Sheriff,” she said. “There are men like that. I think they secretly hate women, or more likely, they’re scared of them. I think Bruno was intimidated by his mother. He said he hated her, but he stayed with her until well after he had reached the age of manhood.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Jenner said. “I mean, I don’t know any man like that.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Jasmine said.
“That doesn’t negate the fact that Bruno wants to kidnap you and your daughter. Maybe he hates you both and means to do you harm.”
“Oh, he hates us both, I’m sure,” Jasmine said. “And as for hurting us, he already has.”
“He might murder you both,” Jenner said, his voice icy hot, his brows knotted up like dark ropes.
“Can’t you protect me, Sheriff? You said you were going after him tomorrow.”
“The man’s a loose cannon on a pitching deck,” Jenner said. Slocum sipped his drink, watching Jenner squirm to get his message across. “I’d like to take you and your daughter out of town until we catch Bruno Valenti. For a few days. Please. I have a hunting cabin up in Paradise Valley, near Livingston. You and Miss Lydia would be perfectly safe there.”
“I’m sure we would,” Jasmine said. “Perfectly safe, and bored, and lonesome, unable to do what we love to do, sing for the public.”
“If I took you there, you’d live to sing your hearts out,” Jenner said.
“It’s out of the question, Sheriff. Lydia and I are doing well here in Big Timber. Mr. Mallory wants us to stay on, for at least a month, maybe longer. I feel that when Leroy gets the word out about us, we’ll pack the dining salon. Our salaries will go up and we can perform in other towns, like Livingston, and Bozeman, maybe Helena and Missoula.”
“That may be so,” Jenner said, “but I’m urging you to let me take you to a safe place for at least a day or two. You can come back to the hotel and continue to sing.”
“Do I have a choice?” Jasmine said. She looked at Slocum, whose face was a noncommittal mask. He did not move, but just sat there, quiet and impassive, as if he had willed himself to be somewhere else, away from this room and the conversation.
“Well, yeah,” Jenner said. “I can’t force you to do what I ask. But I’m begging you, for your own safety. John here agrees with me, don’t you, John?”
Slocum was forced to return to the room and become part of the conversation.
“Yes, Dave, I think Jasmine and Lydia might be in danger. However, they also have their careers to think about. If they left now, at the moment of what could be a triumph for them, they could sink like stones in a dark sea. The people who were there tonight might think they were too uppity, and had abandoned them.”
“Oh, John, that’s so much horseshit and you know it,” Jenner said, his anger rising, his neck reddening like the line in a thermometer.
“Could you guarantee their safety in, where is it, Paradise Valley?” Slocum asked. “I mean, they’d be in your hunting cabin all by themselves, with no one to watch over them. Two beautiful women, all alone. There are probably other Brunos out there who would like to get their hands on them.”
“John, you’re making it hard for me,” Jenner said. “You’re siding with Miss Jasmine and leaving me without a leg to stand on.”
“Well, Dave, you asked me.”
“And now, I’m sorry I did.” He turned to look at Jasmine. “One last time, Miss Jasmine. Will you let me take you and your daughter up to Paradise Valley tonight, where I know you’ll be safe? I might even be able to bring you back tomorrow afternoon and you won’t miss your performance.”
Jasmine sighed.
She gave Jenner an open and honest look, her blue eyes unblinking.
“Lydia and I will be perfectly safe here, Sheriff. We do not want to go riding off in the middle of the night to some deserted place where wolves and bears and mountain lions prowl.”
She lifted her skirt up to her knees and showed Jenner and Slocum her stockinged leg. Just above her knee, there was a small holster. The butt of a Derringer showed above the leather.
“This gun has two bullets in it, Sheriff. And I know how to use it. I don’t intend for Bruno to kidnap me or Lydia. If he tries, I’ll shoot him dead.”
She let her skirt drop and smoothed out her dress. Jenner’s mouth was agape and his eyes were stuck wide open.
Slocum took another swallow of bourbon. Jasmine raised her glass to her lips and sipped a tiny bit, then set it back down.
Jenner finished his drink and slammed the glass down hard on the table.
“All right, Miss Jasmine,” he said, “you win. I’ll slink on out of here and forget I’ve been trying to save your life. I hope we get Bruno
in the morning. But if not, don’t say I didn’t warn you. That man’s as treacherous as a sidewinder and he could grab you and your daughter without you ever knowing he was there. And if he knows you have that peashooter strapped to your leg, he’ll probably shoot you dead before you can lift your skirt.”
Jenner stalked across the room without waiting for an answer. He stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Slocum heard his boots pound on the carpeted hall until the sound faded into silence.
“I think you hurt Dave’s feelings,” Slocum said as he turned to her.
She scooted closer to him on the divan.
“He’s a worrywart,” she said.
“He has your best interests at heart.”
Jasmine snuggled up to him, put her head in the hollow just below his shoulder.
“You’ll protect me, won’t you, John? I mean, if Bruno were to burst through that door right now, you’d shoot him dead, wouldn’t you?”
Her question, thought Slocum, did not require an answer. He could smell her perfume, the musk of her perspiration, the heady scent of her femaleness. If Bruno were to walk in on them at that moment, he doubted if he could retrieve his pistol fast enough to fire at him.
“You’re not going to answer me, are you?” she said finally, after seconds had passed.
“I’d protect you if I was around when Bruno came after you. I may not be.”
“He won’t dare come here,” she said. “And he doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what you look like.”
“That’s true. There’s no assurance that we’ll catch him tomorrow. From what Dave says, he’s pretty smart.”
“Oh, he’s cunning, all right. Like a fox. But inside, he’s a coward, like most men.”
“You think most men are cowards?”
“Men I’ve known,” she said.
“Then you probably never knew a soldier or a sheriff like Dave Jenner. He’s no coward.”
“No, I don’t believe he is. And you certainly are not.”
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I know,” she said. “I can judge men. I see enough of them to know what they want, and most don’t have the courage to ask for it, or go after it without simpering and cowing down like beggars.”
