by Jake Logan
“What do you want from me where this man is concerned?” she asked.
“I want to know if he’s more than he says he is or if he’s got any dirt under his fingernails.”
“Everyone’s got dirt under their nails, John.”
“You know what I mean,” he said. “He’s riding with me to try and find Abernathy.”
“And where is he now?”
“We split up outside of town,” Slocum told her. “He works at a saloon, so I told him to scout out the saloons here in town for word about Abernathy. Judging by the way he looked at me when we parted ways, he might think I plan on leaving him here.”
Olivia made an exaggerated pouting expression and said, “It’s been my experience that you do tend to run off.”
Rather than take that bait, Slocum merely scowled at her.
“All right. I don’t blame you for leaving me in Texas. So what has Abernathy done to get you so riled up?”
“Killed a few people in front of me for no good reason. He also may be riding with some other killers.”
That perked Olivia up. “Really? And who might they be?”
“Never mind about them. Right now, let’s get back to Haresh.”
“Partnering up with you on something like this could be dangerous. Does he have good reason to go through all that trouble? I find that question gets some of the most interesting answers.”
Slocum nodded. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. It would sure do me a lot of good if I had your knack where digging up information is concerned.”
Standing up and setting her cigar on the edge of a ceramic ashtray, she said, “You need to stay in one place long enough to become a harmless fixture, and I don’t see you ever doing that. Also,” she added while sliding her hands along her hips, “it doesn’t hurt if you can fill out a dress as well as this.”
“Afraid I fall short on both counts,” Slocum said. “Think you can help me with my business proposition?”
“It’s not a business proposition until there’s some kind of profit involved. What’s in it for me?”
“Remember how you tried to wheedle all those names and dates from me when we were in Texas?” he asked.
“I was just asking about the gunmen that seem to be drawn to you like flies to manure. Even though you’ve buried more men than anyone can count, you didn’t want to talk about a single one. Told me you didn’t like the notion of helping bounty hunters.”
Slocum stood up as well. “I don’t keep accurate details on everything I’ve done, but I can set aside some time where we can talk about anything you like, and in that time, I’ll answer anything you want about anyone you want.”
“Anyone?”
“I won’t put anyone in danger who doesn’t belong there,” he clarified.
“So far, I’ve only got a few bounty hunters that I deal with. The rest are lawmen who either work in the territory or are passing through trying to drag someone out of the mountains. Anyone those men are after isn’t worth protecting.”
“What about vigilantes?” Slocum asked. “You must get approached by plenty of them.”
“Not at first, but once I told one of them where to find a man who kidnapped a little girl last fall, they’ve been coming out of the woodwork. They can be tightly wound, but usually their hearts are in the right place.” Seeing the suspicious rise of Slocum’s eyebrow, she added, “If they’re after someone who doesn’t already have a price on their head or isn’t someone I know is a piece of scum, all I have to do is tell them I haven’t heard anything and they back away.”
“What happens if they don’t back away?”
She walked around her desk and rubbed his cheek. “Worried about me, John? That’s sweet. Before I started bartering information, I made sure to surround myself with friends that can protect me.”
“Like you had me protect you in Texas?”
“That’s right,” she said. “And if you recall, I handled a situation or two on my own just fine as well.”
“You did. So do we have a deal?”
Her expression hardened into that of a shrewd businesswoman. “Give me two hours of your time?”
“Half an hour.”
“One hour?”
“Done,” Slocum said.
She shook his hand. “I’ll see what I can dig up about your friend, the mysterious Mr. Haresh.”
15
Ferril Abernathy rode into town alone. This was nothing new to him, but the manner in which he made his appearance felt very strange indeed. Night was falling and rather than dress in his usual expensive, well-tailored suits, black hat, and polished boots, he’d donned a set of clothes that he referred to as “grubby and mediocre.” To just about anyone else who rode into Hollister from the surrounding wilderness, the semirumpled white shirt, battered brown jacket, and simple trousers would still seem a little fancy. The brim on his hat was wide enough to keep his face mostly covered as he rode through town and looked for a good place to put up his horse for a day or two. Since he quickly realized “good” might be a stretch, he lowered his standards and left his horse at a place that looked somewhat clean.
From there, he strolled about town, getting a feel for the streets and watching for lawmen. There weren’t many officials, but nearby there seemed to be men with cautious eyes and hands that never strayed far from their gun belts.
Vigilantes.
If he was a betting man, Ferril would have laid a healthy sum on that guess. While in the Montana Territory, it behooved a man like Abernathy to be able to spot a vigilante from as far away as possible. It did him even more good to keep that much distance between him and the self-righteous murderers who all but ruled the area with the proverbial iron fist.
But it wasn’t them he was worried about. Lawmen and self-important animals with guns were a constant thorn in his side. He was in Hollister to meet with a few very important people, and once he’d gotten what he was after, it was on to California. After that . . . even he didn’t know. For someone who’d planned his life out almost to the second and then made it his obsession to see those plans through, that much uncertainty was a refreshing change.
He smiled at the prospects looming in front of him. Naturally, when a woman passing him by saw the cheery expression on his face, she answered with a smile of her own. Ever the gentleman, Ferril removed his hat and turned on his heel so he could change direction and fall into step beside her.
“Good evening to you, ma’am.”
“Good evening,” she replied while trying to hide her smile.
“I was wondering if you could direct me to the Cat’s Eye.”
Her smile fell away like dried mud that had been shaken from someone’s boot after a good, hard tap. “Down the street and right at the corner. You’ll find it next to the rest of the opium dens run by that horrible Chinese man.”
“Is that a safe place at this time of night?”
The woman gazed up at the sky. Although there were still strips of deep purple amid the spreading blackness overhead, she winced as if she were looking up at the cold, inky sprawl of infinity. “Probably not. Lord only knows what sort of men are staggering about, out of their minds.”
Abernathy nodded sympathetically, but in truth he was holding back a smile. When he saw someone display a nagging fear or grating dislike toward something, he found it amusing to goad them a bit. It was like poking at a sensitive patch of skin just to watch the other person jump. To those who were above such fears and hatreds, it was an amusing display.
“I imagine it’s terrible,” he said. “Such a shame that their kind has to invade such a nice place like this.”
“Yes! It is. It truly is.” Her face brightened and she looked at Abernathy as if she’d known him for months. “Are you new in town?”
Abernathy couldn’t help
thinking that he could have his way with this woman. She was already on the hook and wanted badly to be reeled in. After years of spotting potential audience members for his circus acts and drawing suckers to the conmen who traveled with those shows, he’d become adept at picking up on such things. If he had more time, he might even enjoy bringing this catch to a dark room and having a tasty snack. Instead, he nodded and said, “I am, indeed. Unfortunately, I have matters to attend to in that unsavory district you spoke of. If you’d like to accompany me . . .”
Asking that woman to walk with him to the place that she so recently regarded with disgust was the quickest way to turn her stomach. She turned away with a snippy refusal of his offer. Abernathy watched her walk away, imagining what could have been. She wasn’t much to look at, but had a few inviting curves here and there. Then again, that could have also been a trick of her poorly fitted dress. He turned toward the direction she’d indicated and continued walking.
Entering another district in a town the size of Hollister was a simple matter of walking for a few minutes in one direction. People bustled here and there, winding between dogs, cats, and carts pulled by tired horses. Now that the sunlight was gone, saloons were gathering momentum and strangers would be anxious to find rooms for the night. Part of that bustle was an illusion, however, created by tight, meandering streets clogged by vendor stalls and buildings that had been built too close together. Ferril took it all in and quickly detected the scent of exotic smokes coming from shacks and large tents marked by signs bearing tigers, dragons, and lotus blossoms.
Between what the fidgety woman had told him and his understanding of Oriental markings, Abernathy didn’t have much trouble in finding the Cat’s Eye. It was a squat building that was twice as long as it was wide. The door was guarded by a large man wearing a gun belt, which wasn’t anything unusual. More than likely, that man was mainly there to keep an eye on all the other armed men standing outside of the other nearby businesses. Abernathy approached the door, tipped his hat, and started walking in. He was stopped by an arm that stretched out to block his path like a bar of iron.
“No guns inside,” the man said.
Abernathy playfully replied, “You’re wearing a gun.”
“I’m not inside.”
“Fair enough. How about, after I meet with the owner of this place, I bring you out something warm to drink?”
The guard wasn’t in the mood to banter. That much was made clear by the deadly glare he shot at Abernathy.
“I hear there are unsavory characters inside and I need to protect myself,” Abernathy said. “Surely we could arrange—”
“I said no guns. Either leave them with me or get the hell out of my sight.”
Unfortunately, the guard had not only proven to be unmovable but was also observant enough to pick up on the fact that Abernathy wore two pistols beneath the coat that covered everything but a glimpse of the gun belt’s buckle. “All right,” he said while opening his coat and unbuckling the holster. “Rules are rules.”
As he went through the motions of handing over the .44s, another armed man appeared from one of the shadows to make sure he didn’t try anything foolish. Having noticed the man lurking there when he’d arrived, Abernathy looked at him now as if he was surprised by the arrival. “My goodness! Is there more going on in there than what I smell?”
“People can get wild if they ain’t used to smoking that stuff,” the first guard said. “If that happens, you’ll be glad we’re here and even gladder that we take everyone’s guns from them.”
As one last attempt at humor, Abernathy asked, “What if I intend to be one of those wild men?”
The guard looked him up and down to take his stock. The dry chuckle that scraped in the back of his throat made it clear he wasn’t impressed. “If you want to stay healthy, I’d advise you sit on yer pillow, smoke yer stuff, and go to sleep like everyone else.”
“Sound advice. Much obliged.”
The guard handed over the .44s to the one who’d stepped out of the shadows and used his other hand to wave Ferril in through the front door. Abernathy went where he was told and was greeted by a friendly woman dressed in a faded red silk slip. To the locals, Abernathy thought, she must appear quite striking.
“Welcome to Cat’s Eye,” she said in a thick Chinese accent. “Have you been here before?”
“I haven’t.”
“Then you would like me to show you to a room? I can recommend something you will like very much.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then you already know what you like?”
“Yes,” Abernathy said. “I would like a word with the manager.”
Her face took on a pacifying quality that grated against his nerves worse than a rake being dragged across dry slate. “If there is a problem, I’m sure I can handle it,” she assured him. “If you would like something other than what is on the menu,” she said while motioning toward a locked cabinet that was surely filled with the narcotics that were burning in the rooms behind her, “then I can help you as well.” She eased up to him and placed a delicate hand upon his chest just above his heart. It was an attempt to both endear herself to him and titillate him at the same time. “Surely I can help you in ways that the manager cannot.” Abernathy had worked in plenty of gambling halls with saloon girls, and that was one of their most common methods short of simply allowing their blouses to fall open at the right time.
“I’m sure you could.” He reached up as if to take her hand like any would-be suitor. Although it appeared to be a simple enough gesture, the pressure he applied on the nerves in her wrist using only a few bony fingers sent a jolt of pain through her entire body. “I’ve already asked you politely. Now take me to Mr. Baynes before I become . . . impolite.”
She tried twisting out of his grasp, but failed. When she began to look toward another part of the room where there were surely guards watching, Abernathy applied just enough pressure to stop her. “You’d better look as if you’re still trying to wrangle me into an overpriced bowl of opium,” he warned. “Otherwise you may lose this pretty little hand.”
Her smile may have been strained, but it appeared genuine enough to anyone watching from more than a few paces away. For once, her ability to feign pleasure wasn’t an asset. “Let me go,” she said quietly, “and I will take you.” When Abernathy released her, she rubbed her wrist and smiled graciously. They walked side by side down a narrow hall that was lined on both sides with several skinny doors. The rooms behind those doors were probably no bigger than closets. For the men who came to have their lives and burdens melted away by the opium they inhaled, all they needed was enough room to collapse onto a pile of blankets and cheap pillows.
“If you are planning to rob us, you are making a mistake,” she told him under her breath. “You’ll never make it out of here alive.”
“I’m no robber.”
“Mr. Baynes will kill you. He has killed many men.”
“I’ve killed more,” Abernathy replied quickly. When she looked over to him, he showed her enough confidence in his eyes to tell her he meant what he said.
“There is not much money here,” she said weakly.
“Just shut up and show me where the office is,” he snapped. “If you’d been more helpful at the start, none of this would have been necessary.”
Sufficiently discouraged from saying any more, the woman led him to an office at the end of the hall. They were just far enough from the rest of the rooms for the pungent, semisweet smoke to be more of an afterthought in the back of his nose than the overpowering haze from before. She knocked twice on the door and then knocked again. Abernathy rolled his eyes at the clumsy signal and shoved her into the door hard enough to force it open. The man behind the shoddy desk was still in the process of removing a gun from a drawer when he and the woman stepped inside.
&nb
sp; The expression on the man’s face was a mix of anger and surprise. A second later, it lost its edge. “That you, Ferril?”
“It sure is. How are you, Lester?”
“You . . . know him?” the woman asked.
Abernathy stepped over to a liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. The office wasn’t exactly spacious, but felt comfortable compared to the cramped hallway and equally cramped streets of Hollister. “She’s very astute,” he said while nodding toward the Chinese woman. “You should hire more just like her.”
“I’ve got plenty more like her on my payroll,” Baynes said. “Perhaps I could introduce you.”
“I must go,” the woman said distastefully. “Someone has to be up front to greet customer.”
“Right, go on ahead,” Baynes said. “Give us a little while to talk and then send in one of the other girls. Is Chen working tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Send her.” To Abernathy, he said, “You’ll like Chen. Just the sort of China doll someone expects in a place like this.”
Abernathy was about to refuse the offer, but took a moment to consider it. “That . . . could be nice. It’s been a while since I’ve sampled some of the finer things from the Orient.”
“I will send her,” the woman said. “Later.” She couldn’t get out of the room fast enough and slammed the door behind her.
“She’s a peach,” Baynes said.
Now that his first sip of gin was down, Abernathy replied, “Seemed dense and cheap to me.”
“Trust me. She ain’t cheap. What brings you to Hollister?”
Turning his back to a wall so he could see Baynes and the door without turning his head, Abernathy said, “You know why I’m here.”
“You still chasing after that damn California job? I told you before, it’s an old wives’ tale. There ain’t no depot where all them little bits of gold are brought in from so many different places.”
