by Bill Brooks
The same waiter who had served him the night before made his way through the pack, a tray of empty beer mugs balanced in his right hand.
“What can I get you?”
“Whiskey, an ice beer to chase it. Bring me the special too.”
Teddy ate and drank with deliberateness, meanwhile studying the activity around him. He noticed perhaps as many as a half-dozen working girls—cyprians, frail sisters, brides of the multitudes, doves, whatever you chose to call them—mingling with the miners, leading them off to the cribs that bordered the upper level of the saloon. He remembered his own initiation into the flesh trade that time in Abilene and the confession of his act to old John Sears, who simply smiled and spat and said, “You had Betsy too, huh?” It still sort of slid around in his belly to think of it. Those were happy times, though, maybe the happiest he ever spent.
He saw one of the doves, a dark-haired wisp of a woman who approached Hank Rain and Ned Loyal. They spoke for a moment, then she took them each by the hand and led them upstairs to one of the cribs. It seemed like a mean life for anyone, much less a girl barely a woman.
He tossed back the last of the whiskey, then took his beer and wandered over to the gaming tables where men were playing chuck-a-luck and buck the tiger. He waited until a spot came open at one of the card tables and bought his way in. The man dealing cards had hands like a debutante: smooth and well-cared-for. He was cleanly dressed in a cutaway coat, brocade vest, and was obviously a professional gambler.
They played several hands, and Teddy won two small pots then lost them back again. An hour into the game a lantern-jawed miner pushed back his chair and said to the gambler, “I think you’re double-dealing me.”
Barely looking up from his smooth hands and the cards they held, the gambler said, “You’re not a good enough cardplayer I’d have to double deal you. You just ain’t worth a shit at this game.”
The miner stood suddenly and said, “I want to see what’s up that sleeve of yours, and by God I want to see it right this fucking minute!”
It was as though the gambler did little more than flick his wrist, and one of the smooth hands held a derringer aimed at the large head of the miner.
“This what you’re looking for? You want me to deal you this ace?”
The miner swallowed hard, like he was trying to swallow his teeth. “I guess…I guess I had it wrong.”
“You in or out?” the gambler said.
“In, I reckon.”
And like that, it was over with. Teddy cashed in and went to the bar.
It was palpable when Wild Bill entered the room. There were others with him—namely Charley Utter, who stood a head and half shorter. The path through the crowd seemed to clear of its own volition, and Wild Bill seemed to know exactly the status of his celebrity as he walked among them.
He’s like the Jesus Christ of the West, Teddy thought somewhat humorously.
Wild Bill took up residence at one of the card tables. One man offered him his seat, but Bill shook his head, nodded toward another man sitting with his back to the wall.
The man stood, and Bill took his place. Charley whispered something in Bill’s ear, then moved to the bar where Teddy stood.
Charley slapped a pair of silver dollars on the hardwood and ordered him and Bill each a cocktail.
“Look at him,” Charley said. The Prince of the Pistoleers.
“I have to admit, he commands your attention.”
Bill was dressed in a black frock coat with satin trim, a white silk shirt and matching white cravat. His long moustaches looked golden under the glow of the oil lamp hanging over the table—golden, like the light at sunset.
Teddy saw Bill remove his pistols from his sash and lay them on the table—one within reach of either hand. He had a broad, smooth forehead with a red line from the band of his sombrero when he thumbed it back.
The way the cigar smoke floated around him like a cloud, he could have been St. Hickok.
“Let me take him over his cocktail and I’ll be back,” Charley said.
Teddy watched Charley work his way through the crowd without spilling so much as a drop of the liquor in either glass. Wild Bill’s head went up as Charley came within range of the table. Teddy could see the eyes narrow then relax as Charley extended him the cocktail glass, which he took almost demurely and sipped from, then swiped the liquor dew from his moustaches with a forefinger—left, then right.
Teddy saw Hank Rain and Ned Loyal exit the dove’s room on the second floor. Hank was tucking in his shirt and Ned was combing his hair with his fingers. The dove came out seconds later, looking the worse for wear, but descended the stairs and immediately began to ply the crowd of miners again, and was soon leading one off on that familiar trek back up to her crib. Teddy wondered how many times exactly she’d climbed those stairs in her life.
Old John Sears had told him that time on the trail up to Abilene that he’d once been in love with a dove and that she’d taken her own life by drinking mercury.
“Saddest goddamn thing I ever experienced,” the old man said.
“Why’d she do it?” Teddy asked.
“You tell me, we’ll both know. It’s the life, I guess is what it was. She sent me a letter right before. Said the life was wearing her out, wanted to know if I’d come for her and take her out of it. Hell, by the time I got there, she was gone and buried. Some of her working sisters told me what she did. I never did let myself love nobody again. Loving somebody is a sad goddamn thing to do.”
Charley made his way back to the bar, his cocktail drunk down, and he ordered another.
“Soon’s Billy’s finished with his card game I’ll get you two introduced. Say, have you tried any of the flesh here?”
“No.”
“It ain’t what you’d call first-rate like it is in Denver. But this is the frontier, and what can you expect, anyway? Most of the girls that come to these piss pot frontier towns have reached the end of the line—down to dimes instead of dollars. But miners ain’t the choosiest souls that ever lived when it comes to female flesh, and I can’t say I’m too choosey either unless I got a choice in the matter. Now old Billy, he’s somewhat particular of the company he keeps. It’s mostly because he can have his pick of the ladies. But I have to say, it seems since him and the old woman—er, I mean Agnes—got hitched, he’s been about as faithful as you could imagine. It’s like he just lost all interest in other gals.”
Charley took a breath in order to swallow down half the second cocktail, licked his lips and said, “Pard, that’s pretty good damn drinking, that is.”
In between telling Teddy about Bill and their exploits together, Charley greeted every other patron with a howdy and a handshake and bought some of them drinks, and some of them bought him drinks.
“Seems like you know everybody,” Teddy said.
“I’m just friendly. You have to be a friend to make a friend, is what my daddy always said—he was a drummer of stoves.”
“Looks like some of it rubbed off.”
“Some of what?”
“The gift of gab.”
“Oh, that. I guess maybe so.”
“You see those two men down at the end of the bar?”
Charley looked around the shoulders of a six-foot miner. “Yea’r.”
“You know who they are?”
“No.”
“One is Hank Rain, and the other one in the blanket coat is Ned Loyal.”
“What about ’em?”
“They’re gunfighters.”
“I see.”
“They were in Ellsworth when I was there. I can’t say for sure, but rumor had it they were on the scout for Bill, but Bill had already left town.”
“You think they’re here because he is?”
“Anything’s possible. Thing is, they haven’t acted like they’ve even noticed him.”
“Well, you make sure you keep an eye on them suckers,” Charley said. “Just give me the signal if you think they’re going to
move on Billy and I’ll help you plug ’em.”
“You any good with that?” Teddy asked, nodding to the long-barreled revolver hanging from the concho-studded holster on Charley’s hip.
“This?” Charley said, looking down at it. “Hell, old Ned Buntline gave me it. You ever seen a barrel so long? He had it special made—one for me and one for Billy, only Billy won’t pack his—says it’s not practical, says time he pulled and cleared all that barrel, somebody would have him shot dead. He could be right. But don’t be mistaken, I could kill anything that walked or crawled with this. It’s just like a little rifle, is the way you have to think about it.”
“Jesus, are you long-winded on everything, Charley?”
Charley just grinned and ordered himself another cocktail.
Chapter 11
Teddy watched the dove take half a dozen more miners and cowboys one at a time up the stairs to her crib as he waited for Bill to finish his round of cards. Charley chattered away like a squirrel to anyone who would listen as he downed cocktail after cocktail.
Teddy felt a little more than weary of the assignment and wondered again if maybe it had been a mistake taking it in the first place. But then Bill threw in his last hand, rose from the table and came toward where Charley and he stood at the bar. The crowd parted like the sea for Moses.
“Just go along with whatever I say,” Charley said to Teddy.
Bill paused before the two men, said, “I never had such a bad run of luck as I’ve had lately. I lost my poke.”
“You know I’ll stake you, charming Billy,” Charley said in his jovial manner. He was well drunk now, but you could hardly tell it from when he wasn’t.
“I’m hoping this weather breaks and we can go north to the gulch,” Hickok said. “I think there is a future for me there.”
He hardly took any notice of Teddy, or so it seemed.
“This is Teddy Blue,” Charley said. “We know each other from down Texas way.”
Hickok cut his gaze to Teddy, nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“I saw you once in Chicago,” Teddy said. “You and Bill Cody and Texas Jack at Nixon’s Theater.”
A muscle twitched in the long face of the shootist.
“You could have gone the rest of the year without mentioning that,” Hickok said. “I was a damn fool for letting Cody talk me into thinking I could stage-act.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Teddy said.
“You must have been drunk or asleep.”
“You scared hell out of everybody when you shot out that spotlight.”
Hickok’s sandy moustaches lifted slightly as his mouth fought a smile.
“I could have killed an innocent. It’s another thing about that venture didn’t work out so well. Cody was mighty upset with me.”
“Can I stand you a drink?”
Hickok studied him for a moment, said, “Long as you’re no newspaperman or some lawyer my wife sent to ask me for a divorce.”
The three moved to a table away from the din as much as possible. Others who’d been occupying it were more than willing to give up their seats to Wild Bill—thinking it some sort of honor.
Charley said, “Listen, I got to go take care of some business. I’ll be back in twenty or thirty minutes. Why don’t you two get acquainted some.” And before either Hickok or Teddy could say a thing, Charley worked his way off into the crowd toward the little dark-haired dove who was plying her trade along the bar again.
“Charley’s a lonesome sort,” Hickok said. “Can’t stand being without the company of a woman long.”
“He seems a decent enough pard,” Teddy said.
“A man couldn’t ask for none better.”
“It’s none of my business, Mr. Hickok. But I saw two men here earlier you might want to know about.”
Hickok turned his cocktail glass between the fingers of his left hand.
“Hank Rains and Ned Loyal,” Teddy said.
Hickok raised his glass slowly and took a drink, then set it down again with great care. “Why do you feel the need to tell me this?”
“I saw them in Ellsworth when I was there, and rumor had it they were looking for ‘Wild Bill.’ Only you were long since departed from that place. I just thought you should know.”
Hickok swiped the dew from his moustaches with fingers fine as carved ivory. “They’d not be the first ones looking to make their reputation off Wild Bill,” he said. “Thanks for the warning, Mr. Blue, but I saw them. They were at the end of the bar when I came over. They know where to find me if they want. Thing is, I know where to find them too.”
Hickok took another drink of the cocktail.
“What do you do as a profession, Mr. Blue?”
“I have no particular profession. I did some cowboying till that ran out. I guess I’m like everybody else here. I’m just waiting to go up into the gold hills soon as the weather breaks.”
“And do what? You’re sure no miner.”
“Seek opportunities. I guess same as you.”
“Then you’re enterprising. Gambling man, maybe?”
“No, I’m just a fair hand with cards. I’m a knockabout. I pick up work here and there.”
He could see the doubt in Hickok’s eyes.
“I’ll take you at your word. Any friend of Charley’s is a friend of mine.”
Teddy saw the dove leading Charley up the stairs, or maybe it was the other way around.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Teddy said. “I guess I’ve had enough liquor and cards for the night. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”
“You know this town very well?”
“I’ve just recently arrived.”
“Oh,” Hickok said. “Then you wouldn’t know which is the best dope den a feller might find?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Some see it as a weakness,” Hickok said.
“What’s that, Mr. Hickok?”
“Opium. But it unlocks the mind, frees the soul, puts you in touch with the spirit world.”
“I guess I never believed much in that sort of thing—the spirit world.”
“Death’s not the end of things, Mr. Blue. It’s the beginning.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“Go dream your dreams and I’ll dream mine, sir. And watch out for those who would see you put in a grave unprepared…”
The light inside the Gold Room was bad, made worse by the smoke and shadows, but Teddy was certain that what he saw in Bill’s gaze was something he couldn’t explain if he had to—a sort of distant detached look, like he was seeing something nobody else could see. There wasn’t anything in Hickok’s dossier about his being a dope fiend or an occultist. Maybe Allan Pinkerton wasn’t as good a detective as he thought he was. But if Hickok were a slave to the dope, then the task of guarding him would be all the more difficult, for what would make it easier for someone to kill him, than to be walking about with a head full of dope dreams?
Teddy was about a block from the boardinghouse when someone moved in the shadows of an alley that ran between the mercantile and the dentist office next door. He had the Colt Lightning out and cocked in one swift move—ready this time for trouble—when the kid stepped into the muted light.
“You can kill me if you want to, but there ain’t no reward on me, not just yet, anyways,” the kid said. “You’d just be wasting a bullet.”
“What are you doing on the streets this late?”
“I shot me a man tonight.”
“Jesus…”
“He deserved it.”
“Nobody deserves it.”
“He did.”
“Your mother know?”
“Nobody knows except me and him. He might be dead. I could use some help getting in the wind.”
“Best to turn yourself in, kid.”
“That ain’t going to happen. That damn Jeff Carr will either shoot me or hang me. It was his cousin I shot.”
“You wa
nt to tell me why you shot him?”
“What’s it to you, anyway?”
“You want my help or not?”
“It was over Lilly.”
“Who’s Lilly?”
“She works down at the Gold Room. He was jealous of me seeing her. Caught me in an alley and threatened to kill me if I didn’t stay away from her. Stuck his gun in my mouth. I showed him, though. I showed him good.”
“Which one is she?”
“Short, like me. Dark hair. Young, pretty, sweet. What do you care?”
Teddy recalled the dove, the one taking the miners and Charley Utter up to her crib.
“What were you doing, seeing a prostitute?”
“She’s only a year older’n me. What’s wrong with me seeing her?”
“Nothing, unless she’s a dove and got the sheriff’s cousin willing to kill for her.”
“I shot him with his own goddamn gun through the neck. They want to hang me for that, let them…”
“You rob him after you shot him?”
“Go ask him if he was robbed. You going to help me or what?”
“I’m not in the helping business, kid.”
“You see me hanging from a telegraph pole the next day or two, you remember you could have done something…”
Like a shadow, the kid receded into darkness.
Jesus, Teddy thought, is there a sign on my back says Good Samaritan on it?
He went straightaway to the boardinghouse. The lights were out. He didn’t know if he should wake her. He thought about it, then knocked on her door. It opened after a few seconds, far enough that he could see her face, the puzzled look on it.
“I have to talk to you.”
She looked doubtful. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
“It’s about your boy.”
She stepped back, and he stepped inside the room.
“He shot a man.”
He saw her flinch as though someone had slapped her.
“I don’t know how bad or if he’s dead, but I can find out.”
“Where is William?” she said.
“I ran into him a few minutes ago on the street. He wanted me to help him get out of town.”
