“Fraid not,” the taller man said, “We are covering up an unfortunate stranger, went by the name of Ted Samuels.” Cassandra stiffened immediately. Ted? Cassandra thought. She knew that to be the alias Marshal Terry St. John, the man she was coming to find, was using for his assignment doing undercover work in Leland Gulch. He had not reported for the last few days giving the governor and his staff grave concern. Now she knew the answer behind his silence.
“How did he end up in such a sad place?” She asked slowly, her voice having lost some of its power from the distressing revelation.
“He died in Driscoll’s Dance Hall, so it is hard to say.” The previous man replied, right before he added, “Sometimes folks die sudden and wild in that establishment. I have planted a few men who have also met their end there.”
The first man nodded in agreement and scratched his head, just as Cassandra gently nodded back at them and proceeded towards the town.
The marshal had died and his job was half done, she began to think to herself, the wide buzzing streets of the town coming into view as they first neared and then entered the town. Heads peered out of the many two-story buildings, some seeming curious about her approaching procession, while others went about their daily activities of speaking at the top of their voices at passing friends and customers or at disturbing children who scampered about the dusty roads littered with papers and horse droppings.
As the caravan began to wind down its slow pace, Cassandra decided that she needed to infiltrate Driscoll’s as soon as possible and find out just what went on in the dance hall. Having discovered its bad reputation and knowing St. John never made it out of there alive, it could have everything to do with the case the marshal was working on. Cassandra didn’t have to think twice before she knew it was the most logical place to start.
Having decided, she left Lily a short time later with the boy handling newcomers at a stable that received her traveling group. Walking out onto the street, her bag in her hand she began asking a few townspeople where the best place to bunk down for a couple of nights would be, as she figured she would need to get a place to prep for going to investigate Driscoll’s. Conveniently, there was a hotel a hop and a skip from the livery. She returned inside to settle up.
“How long are you staying in Leland Gulch, Miss?” The stable boy said as he drew up beside her, smiling inquisitively.
“No telling, child,” she replied. “Take good care of my Lily. She’s a good girl,” Cassandra added, finally returning his smile and flipping him a silver eagle coin. Cedar Ledge’s cattle and timber operations had blessed the Wildes with prosperity, and sharing that wealth with those deserving of it came easy for her.
The boy seemed to be pleased with her generosity, having noticed that the coin was silver. “Yes, Miss. I … I will … Miss,” he stuttered happily, his eyes never leaving her curvaceous body as she exited the stable and crossed the street to the adjacent walkway.
The hotel behind the walkway was a well-built two-story building with more walls than windows. The bricks looked old, but the owner, whoever he was, had spent a great deal of time and money making sure that the building always attracted prospective lodgers with its fresh coat of paint and colorful window blinds that Cassie couldn’t help but to notice and favor.
She met an older boy at the reception desk who also greeted her with an inquisitive smile as soon as she asked for a room. He handled her payment quietly though, giving her the key to her room and promising that she was going to love the decor. He also rang for a burly man who quickly took her bag to the room for her, though she hardly needed help.
Following the help with her bag, she asked him if he could fetch a newspaper for her. After he returned with the paper, he went on his way, also happy to receive a nice tip, and she was left alone to briefly admire the cushions and table in the room. Cassie hefted her old suitcase up on the bed and regarded it for a moment. Whip had gotten it for her when she was just a teenager being sent off to a prestigious Virginia finishing school. In a place where she had been sent to learn to become a lady, she had also secretly learned to become a capable fighter from an enemy turned best friend, one of the family members that ran the school. Wistfully, she thought of her old friend before turning her attention back to the suitcase. It was old and battered now from all those years of travel tied behind her saddle, but she’d never get a new one.
Cassandra opened it to look down at the twin pistols in their holster. It wouldn’t have done to appear in the town looking every bit the lady gunslinger that she was. Digging under them she pulled out the gilded framed photograph of her and her three sisters. It traveled with her on all her assignments. Her way of keeping the dearest people in her life always with her.
Returning her thoughts to the mission at hand she reminded herself that going undercover was the most appropriate road to take until she found out the lay of the land. She also thought inwardly about the best costume to fit whatever role she was going to play. After some time deliberating over the two dresses she had brought with her, she chose the dress with frills and lace. It did not cover up her voluptuous frame, of course. She found her very sexually provocative shape was helpful in her line of work. Bad men were easily distracted, yes, they really were, she told herself with a smile as she finished dressing, looking herself over in the mirror. Her large breasts and wide hips always drew eyes as did her trim waist in the corset.
“Not bad for thirty-two.” she told herself, putting her hair up on the side with her blonde tresses hanging down her back like a maiden.
Flowing attractive locks of hair. That was something else that distracted bad men … or any man really, Cassandra chuckled, liking the sparkle in her green eyes. This will work, she thought in satisfaction again, nodding at her reflection. Now as she had done so many times before, she prepared once more to take her place in danger’s shadow. This foray was especially worth the risk as she was out to investigate the death of a lawman.
CHAPTER TWO
“Please sir, I am looking for Mr. Driscoll, the proprietor of this fine establishment.”
Cassandra had spent a few good seconds casting her gaze about the large hall that was Driscoll’s dancing establishment before deciding to ask one of the men in it, where she could find Driscoll. The man she had questioned was well dressed and was smoking a cigar. By the time she approached him, he was looking at his pocket watch and his eyes didn’t have the decency to stare up at her face immediately. He spent a good deal of time taking in her appearance from the curve of her hips, a hallmark of the Wilde sisters, to her shapely mounds of breasts.
As he took his time to stare at her, she also noticed a good-looking piano player glancing her way, and she smiled at him. The dark-haired man returned hers with a wider smile, encouraging whatever good thoughts she had of him. Driscoll’s Dance Hall turned out to be a pretty place with the usual bar, a stage and enough tables and drinks to make some profit. The entertainment was good enough to bring people in, and Cassandra had to admit that she was impressed so far with everything about the establishment. However, it had been the place Marshal St. John had met his Maker, and questions needed their answers.
“You’re in luck, dear lady,” the man she had questioned earlier finally said, returning her attention to him. “I am Solomon Driscoll, and this is my establishment. How may I be of assistance?” He asked leaning towards her.
Oh, Driscoll himself, Cassandra smiled. He was a tall man. Strong and handsome too, but with a darkness in his eyes that made her wary.
“My name is Kelly Streeter,” She told him. “I am new in town, and I was hoping to get some work singing here.” she added with a hopefully nervous-looking smile.
Driscoll looked her over once again appreciatively, still without any attempt to hide his efforts. It was so obvious what he did to her body with his eyes that she sarcastically wondered if she should offer him to count her teeth.
“Well now, Miss Streeter, perhaps you should show us what you can do.�
�� He grinned eventually, turning to the piano player, “Christopher, play her a verse of ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas’,” he directed.
Immediately, the hall echoed with soft tune, brightening her mood and encouraging her to do as her would-be boss wished. Cassandra, without argument, went to the stage and up the stairs with a smile. Driscoll did not assist her; he was waiting and watching with a critical eye. As she proceeded, she was glad she kept abreast of all the songs sang in places like this, and if it wasn’t too proud of her, she looked forward to impressing everyone with her voice.
There’s a yellow rose of Texas, she began, pitching her perfect voice and closing her eyes.
That’s who I long to see …
It took her almost a minute to finish the lyrics, and when she did, she opened her eyes to find the barmaids and the piano player politely applauding her. As expected, Driscoll nodded, walking over to her quickly, apparently having made up his mind.
“Not bad, girl, not bad.” He gushed with a beaming face, “Let’s get you a costume so you can be show ready. This way,” he encouraged.
Cassandra followed him around the stage to the dressing room with a proud grin. The room was one at the end of a long passageway. He showed her into it with a pat on her back before stepping in with her and pointing to a stage dress hanging in an open dresser. She mutely picked it up, admiring the soft material and quickly stepping behind the changing screen to put it on. The dress however disappointed her, its middle line firmly clasping around her chest and waist. It obviously was made for a woman a little less endowed than she was. Her breasts were pushed together and up while the less-than-modest neckline and tight fabric hugged her curves tightly.
“It leaves nothing to the imagination, Mr. Driscoll.” she commented as she came around the screen to show her new “boss” how it looked on her.
“I have found reality is much preferable, girl. I think you will do well here.” he told her, staring mostly at her chest, as she expected.
She intentionally blushed for him and smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Driscoll, I’m so excited to get a job. I may stay in your lovely town for some time with such hospitality,” she told him placing a hand on his chest and giving the proprietor a direct look. String him along, Cassie, she thought to herself. Get him to talk.
“Perhaps you could have some refreshments brought in, then we can get to know one another.” she also asked flirtingly.
He seemed to have assumed she would say something like that, or perhaps he had thought about it since he took her into the dressing room. Before she knew it, he produced a bottle and two glasses from a cabinet in the corner of the room. He quickly poured her a stiff drink, along with one for himself and turned to her with a leering grin. Then he stepped up quite close, his intentions more than obvious. She shied back away, though. She was fully prepared for his sudden advances but was forced to play the role of a shrinking violet.
“Don’t be bashful,” he said, taking another step closer, completely invading her space, the tips of her breasts lightly touching the man’s three-piece suit. “I make up my mind about the women I like, and I like you a tremendous amount, young lady!” he explained helpfully, as if his hands that were quickly rising and moving towards her chest were not explanation enough.
“Stop that, Mr. Driscoll. Can’t you see she’s not your sort? Let her go!”
They were no longer alone, and by the sound of the cross voice, she guessed that the new arrival was more than irritated by Driscoll’s advances. She glanced up to see that in the doorway was the piano man, Christopher, just as Driscoll turned too, his face filled instantly with rage. He strode over to the good-looking musician, anger coursing through him that made the veins on his neck throb.
“Back to your tune tapping, Thorpe,” he shouted at Christopher. “Here is something that will remind you to keep in your place!” He swung a punch at the man, but Christopher Thorpe easily side-stepped the blow, prepared for such an attack.
“You’re as bad a fighter as you are a womanizer,” He said with his lips pursing together just as Mr. Driscoll staggered as the result of missing his face by an inch. “Let me show you how it’s done, Driscoll.” He groaned, swinging and connecting with a solid punch to the club owner’s jaw, the crack from the blow echoing in the room. The furious Driscoll snarled, stepping back a pace.
“Nobody does that to me! I know how to hit a target, boy!” He shouted and drew a small hidden gun from his waistcoat.
Cassandra, watching the scene before with an inwardly suppressed grin saw it was time to step in.
“Oh, no! Gentlemen, no, don’t fight over little ole me!” she said, feigning a frightened voice as she stepped between the two angry men. The pair paused and breathed heavily, glaring at each other. After a second, Driscoll put his gun away and grunted at Christopher.
“Fine, I won’t kill you, boy, but get the hell out of my saloon. You’re fired and don’t expect any back pay! And you, your first set is in two hours!” He said, pointing at her before storming out. So much for pumping Driscoll for information she thought to her dismay.
Christopher sighed and shook his head dolefully. He turned to Cassandra and bowed before walking out, his shoulders surprisingly high for someone that had just lost his job. Cassandra watched him leave with a sigh, wondering if he could be a viable alternative source of information. Alone in the room, she swung into action and went to the window throwing it open. She had heard the piano player exiting out a rear door so hopefully he would be coming around and up the alley. Sure enough, she saw Christopher once more, his head down, walking up the alley and muttering to himself.
“You don’t have to fire me! I’m sick of working for an overbearing ass like you,” he was venting as he passed by the open window not even seeing her.
Cassandra smiled inwardly, telling herself he was a man she could like and what a handsome man he was. His dark hair was thick and shiny, and she remembered the deep dimples in his cheeks when he had smiled at her earlier. Ever the detective, though, she quickly took the opportunity that had so suddenly arisen and waved her hand to catch his attention.
“Hey,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear. “Come back here. Mr. Thorpe, is it?” she asked.
He nodded as he glanced behind his shoulder at her. As he mutely came over to the window, she could see the admiration for her in his eyes. He was not looking at her as Driscoll had. He was more of a gentleman, of course.
“Yes, my name is Christopher Thorpe. You can call me Chris,” He nodded courteously. “I hope you are okay. I am sorry I stormed out so quickly, I just couldn’t stay any longer in that man’s saloon,” he said.
“That was most gallant what you did for me, coming to my defense.”
she said honestly, her eyes glowing. “Where did you learn to fight like that? I would think a piano player wouldn’t risk injuring his hands.”
“Where I learned to fight, that was the least of a man’s worries. I spent a year in a rebel prisoner of war camp in Tennessee,” he said looking down even as a cold fist closed around Cassandra’s heart. Her brother had endured the hell of the infamous Andersonville POW camp, and Christopher’s experiences were no doubt similar in nature. This revelation only continued to cement the burgeoning endearment she was feeling for him. Silence passed between them, and she was unsure if she should say anything about his past, but decided it best not to say anything. Instead she forced herself back to the task at hand—gaining information. Her heart was telling her she could trust this man.
“I’m here to find out what Driscoll is up to, Chris,” she told him, cutting to the chase. If Driscoll had anything to do with the death of a man in his own establishment, Christopher might have been in the position to know something and he would not be shy about putting the screws to man he despised. “I know that a man named Ted Samuels was killed here in the dance hall. What I want to know was what involvement Driscoll may have had in it. Perhaps I can walk you home, and you can tell me wh
at you know?”
Cassandra figured that Chris, being an honorable man, as well as being momentarily angry, might put him in a more cooperative mood to get back at Driscoll. She could also see the interest in his eyes as she spoke. Cassie waited for him to ask just why she was interested but he didn’t. He did look around to see if anyone was near, though, before he said, “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”
Chris bared his teeth as he continued, “I would be happy to help stop the brute however I can. Whatever your stake in this is, it would be my honor to assist such a courageous and beautiful woman,” he finished, looking her in the eye. She felt her attraction to the dark-haired man deepen as she appreciated his offer.
“Thank you, I will be out shortly,” she told him.
He nodded in agreement and went down the street so he wasn’t seen outside her window.
Interesting, Cassandra thought. He was also a cautious man, apart from having that that enthralling face. She quickly stripped out of her costume into her own clothes and went to meet him without wasting a second.
Every moment they had together would prove to be precious.
CHAPTER THREE
Abrisk walk and twenty minutes later they had arrived at Chris’s home, just outside of Leland Gulch. It was a nice dwelling surrounded by tall Arizonan trees and surprisingly short grasses. His porch squeaked with sounds caused by their footsteps as soon as they stepped on it, indicating that the wood was old. Cassandra guessed that he probably lived his whole life in this house, but she didn’t ask him. She became comfortable immediately as she entered with him. Apart from the encouraging warmth in the house, they had talked politely as they walked, and she was becoming fond of him.
He was a gentleman as well as an honest one. She liked a man she could trust. It was true they had just met but as her father Whip liked to praise her, Cassandra was a very good judge of character and could size people up instantly. This man Christopher Thorpe had received a very high score in her eyes. As they stepped into the house, a man bustled out of a hallway from the back of the house, smiling at the pair. He was a stocky man with salt and pepper hair and a thin beard.
In Danger's Shadow: Cassandra Wilde Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 2) Page 4
