Once she managed to escape from the Crystal Palace, she could make her way to Union Square. But she didn’t know where to find Payton. And she didn’t know how to contact him so she could warn him about Betsy.
The bottle green outfit she’d worn lay strewn across the bed along with the crinoline she’d worn beneath it. She had changed into a simple dark blue cotton gown with only one petticoat fastened beneath. Fashion might dictate three, but she needed to travel quickly. She didn’t want multiple layers of material tangling around her legs.
The clothing Betsy brought for her to wear were packed in trunks and stowed elsewhere. Julia’s carpet covered bag with her personal items sat on the foot of the bed. Her bag contained nothing that couldn’t be replaced. Her nightgown, hair brush, and lotion for her skin would be left behind. She’d have to travel light and didn’t want anything bulky slowing her down.
She removed the extra money she’d hidden inside the carpetbag and dropped it into her reticule. After pulling the drawstrings closed, she slipped it onto her wrist. Her cloak draped around her shoulders. She fastened the button at her throat to secure it in place.
Carefully, she opened the bedroom door. Music and laughter drifted up from the floor below. Two women stood in the hallway taking with each other. Their faces were painted and powdered. All they wore were undergarments beneath colorful robes that were untied in the front. They each wore a corset over a chemise that was cinched up tight, forcing their bosoms to spill over the top edges.
They gave her a curious glance but didn’t question her appearance at the bedroom door. She continued with her exit to the stairway. As she descended the steps, she heard voices, but none sounded like Betsy’s.
Her pace slowed when she reached the door at the foot of the staircase. The guard would be on the other side. She wanted to appear nonchalant when she stepped into the entryway, as if she had every right to walk out the front door.
A few men dressed in evening attire milled around the double doors and distracted the guard. She almost made it to the front entrance when he stepped into her path and blocked her escape.
“Mrs. Dunbar said you might be down.” He grabbed her arm. “She wants to see you.”
The guard’s grip on her arm bordered on painful. He pulled her with him through the side door and along the corridor that went past the staircase. He knocked on the door at the rear of the building.
Betsy’s voice bid them enter.
“She was trying to leave just like you said she would.”
“Sit down.” She motioned to a chair by the desk.
Julia complied. Her strength had returned, but she couldn’t fight them both.
Betsy nodded her head, indicating the guard to leave. Her gaze returned to Julia.
“Were you going somewhere?” she asked in a sneering tone.
“I don’t want to be here.” She tried to soften her reply so her tone didn’t sound like a demand and pressed what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face. “It’s not proper for me to be here. I should go to a hotel.”
“A hotel, my ass. You’re not going anywhere.” She picked up the silver case that contained rolled cigarettes. “I have plans for you.”
“What kind of plans?” she asked although she already suspected.
“You’ll find out.”
Without speaking, Julia glanced around the room. This appeared to be an office. Betsy sat behind a large oak desk. A few wooden chairs, which looked purely functional, were scattered about. A cabinet set against the wall. Liquor bottles and glasses littered the top. The single window in the room was opened partway to let in fresh air. This room set on the ground floor, and the window looked big enough to easily crawl through.
Her mind envisioned a simple escape. She’d let Betsy think she’d become compliant. Once she put the woman’s mind at ease, she’d pretend her nausea had returned. She’d open the window, but instead of throwing up, she’d jump out the window and leave.
With Betsy’s injured knee, it would take a few moments for her to summon the guard and send him after her.
She prepared to put her plan into action, but the guard’s tap at the door stopped her. Without waiting for a reply, he stuck his head through the open doorway, although he didn’t enter the room. “He’s here.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Had Payton been summoned here already? Was Betsy about to execute her threat of putting a bullet in his brain? He had to be warned. Her fingertips pressed against her temples while she thought. Whatever happened, she couldn’t sit idly by and watch him be murdered.
“Show him in.”
“Will you need any help?” the guard asked.
“No, I’ll deal with him myself.” Betsy snuffed out the cigarette in a small dish. “Do you have a gun I can use?”
“Sure do. Center drawer.” He nodded his head toward the desk just before he closed the door.
Julia leaped from the chair. Wildly, her gaze darted around the room for a weapon of her own. If Payton walked in and saw her, she would be the distraction Betsy needed. Then she could reach into the center drawer. He wouldn’t notice the gun in her hand until too late. Payton would be dead, and it would be her fault.
The door opened without the guard’s announcement. He shoved a man into the room and pulled the door closed behind him. A besotted looking little man stood alone in front of the desk where Betsy sat.
When she saw he wasn’t Payton, she released her held breath. Her frayed nerves shuddered with relief. Her body hovered on the verge of collapse. She grabbed the back of a chair for support.
“Are you Ritter?”
“Do you have my money?”
“Your money? I though the money was for Larry.”
“It is.” His quick answer indicated he lied.
“Where is he?” Betsy asked
“I can’t tell you. He doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“You can’t tell me? His own mother?”
Her voice carried an innocent tone, but Julia knew how deceptive she could be.
“He thinks you’re being watched,” Ritter said. “He’s afraid you’ll be followed if you come to him. That’s why he wants me to take the money to him.”
“Why would I be followed? No one knows Larry is in town except for you.”
Neither spoke for a moment. Finally, Ritter seemed to get up his nerve. “Give me the money,” he demanded.
“First I want to know how my son is,” she demanded back. Her voice changed. She reverted to her innocent tone. “Is he well?”
“Well enough.”
“Oh?” she sounded surprised. “Is he under the weather?”
“Didn’t you know he was shot?”
“Where was he shot?”
“In Mexico when he tried to take over a ship.”
“I mean,” she said in an aggravated tone, “what part of his body?”
“His leg.”
“Which leg?”
Ritter put both hands to his thighs. He paused for a moment as though to think. “This one. His left leg.”
“At least you know that much.”
“I know plenty. Now give me the money.”
Her head cocked to one side. “And just what do you think you know?”
“The whole scheme is coming undone.”
“What scheme?”
“You know what I’m talking about. I’m not going to hang for this. I’m shipping out tonight right after I get my things.”
“What about Larry?”
“He’ll have to look to himself. If he shows his face in San Francisco, Tyler will have him.”
“What?” She came out of her chair. “Do you mean Payton Tyler?”
He nodded. “I ran into him the other night. I didn’t know who he was at first, but the next day I remembered. He’s on the hunt for Dunbar. He’s bound and determined to get him.”
“What does Tyler want with Larry?” she shouted.
“My guess would be his body swinging from a yardarm.
It was Tyler’s ship we boarded. And Tyler’s the one who shot him.”
A string of profanities spewed from her mouth. “I’ll kill the bastard.”
“Not if he kills us first. I’m getting the hell out of here.”
Apparently forgetting about the money, he bolted for the door.
“Tell me were Larry is.”
He halted his retreat and turned back. An angry snarl twisted his expression. He came toward Betsy. “Give me the money.”
She grabbed for the knob on the center drawer. Ritter bounded around the desk and slung her away with his arm. She fell backward into the chair.
He yanked open the drawer. Perhaps he expected to find money, but when he saw none, he looked stupefied.
Betsy crawled out of the chair and reached past him for the gun.
When Ritter realized her intent, he grabbed for the weapon also. They both fumbled with the gun before it slipped from their grasp. The revolver bounced on the carpet and slid across the floor.
A fight erupted between the two. Betsy clawed at his eyes with her nails. Ritter struck her in the face with his opened hand. A flurry of hands and fists and nails pummeled through the air and found their mark. Blood oozed from rips in their skin. Red welts popped out on their faces.
The ferocity of the fighting stunned Julia. She moved away from them until her back pressed against the wall. She scooted along it until she found herself trapped in the far corner of the room.
“How dare you lay your hands on me.” Betsy reached for her cane that set against the chair. “I’ll kill you.”
She raised the cane high, but Ritter grabbed at it before she cracked him over the skull. He ripped the cane from her hand. Betsy crossed her arms over her head just as he hit her with the cane. The force of the blow knocked her forward onto the desk. She looked dazed but managed to press her hands on top of the desk and push herself upright. With her hands splayed on the flat surface, she prevented her body from swaying.
Her chest swelled as she took a deep gulp of air into her lungs. Her mouth opened, but before a screech bellowed passed her lips, Ritter hit her again. And again.
Horrified at the savageness of the beating, Julia could do nothing but watch him bash in her skull with the ebony cane. He dropped it and took a step back.
Betsy’s body lay across the desk. Dark red blood oozed from the numerous openings on her head. Her lifeless eyes stared at nothing.
He dashed for the door, but when he grabbed the handle, he pulled his hand back as though too hot to touch. His eyes darted about the room. Then he saw Julia.
She stood wedged in the corner of the room, frozen with fear from the deadly violence she’d just witnessed. Her hand covered her mouth. Her wide eyes stared at him.
He rushed toward her, but instead of coming directly at her, he went to the window. He threw up the sash and climbed out.
Julia sucked in heavy gasps of air and expelled them rapidly. Her heart thumped so hard she thought it would split open her chest. She grabbed at the wall for support in case her wobbly legs wouldn’t hold her upright. Her eyes squeezed shut so she couldn’t see the carnage that lay before her. With her eyes closed, she tried to think, but only one thought came into her mind.
She had to get out of this room.
Her eyes opened. She saw the gun on the floor. If her wits failed her, the weapon may be her only way out. She picked it up, stuck it in her cloak pocket, and bolted for the door.
The guard saw her running toward the front entrance. She didn’t need to playact her terror. She pointed in the direction of the room she had just left. “He beat her to death.”
As the guard ran down the corridor to the room, Julia ran out the front door. Frantically, she looked up and down the street. She needed a carriage to take her away from this horrible place. Near the end of the block, a man climbed from a public conveyance. She ran toward it.
Ritter dashed out of the alleyway right in front of her. He didn’t bother to look around as he made the corner. He continued down the street at a rapid pace.
Her mind sharpened as she squelched down her panic. She tried to sort out the details of the conversation she had just heard. Ritter had mentioned Payton. He’d seen him recently and knew he searched for Dunbar. The pieces fit awkwardly into a strange puzzle, but she could see the finished picture. If she followed Ritter, he would lead her to Payton.
Chasing after the man who had just killed a woman would be extremely dangerous. She had watched him beat Betsy to death. But she needed Payton. She would do anything to find him.
She hurried down the street at the same rapid pace. Ritter no longer ran but moved quickly down the street for a few blocks. He zigzagged down a couple of side streets and increased the distance between them, but she still had him in her sights. After another few blocks, he disappeared into a lodging house.
As her pace slowed, she tried to remember more of what he’d said to Betsy. He needed money. Then he planned to leave town. But first he had to get his things.
Her little bag dangled around her wrist. She searched through it for money. Twenty dollars was all she found. It wasn’t a lot, but it might be enough to make him talk.
She touched the revolver hidden in her pocket. Apparently, Ritter didn’t have a gun since he’d used Betsy’s cane to kill her. Knowing this gave her a distinct advantage. When she came face to face with him, she would keep the weapon in her hand.
Summoning her courage, she headed down the street to where Ritter lodged.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Night closed in around Payton, but his view of the street remained visible. The sky was clear, the moon bright, and the fog had not rolled in. Lamps hung outside most of the establishments and helped illuminate the walk.
He spotted Ritter when he turned the corner. The man, looking scared and out of breath, moved at a brisk pace as he headed toward the lodging house. Ritter flung open the front door and dashed inside. Payton decided to give him a few minutes before he followed. He wanted Dunbar occupied with Ritter before he barged into the room to overtake them both.
As he stepped out of the alleyway where he waited, his eye caught sight of someone else. A woman hurried down the boarded walk. She clutched her skirt in front so her petticoats didn’t tangle with her legs during her haste. A dark-colored cloak covered her body. She had the hood pulled over her head, and not a single strand of hair peeked from beneath the edged. And yet, this woman seemed familiar. Although she hurried, her movements appeared elegant. She held her head high, her shoulders square. Her hips swayed gently. Her long legs carried her gracefully over the walk.
The muscles in his chest constricted. His breathing halted.
It couldn’t be her. Julia wouldn’t be foolish enough to come back to the Barbary Coast and wander around, lost and alone.
But she didn’t look lost. She seemed to know exactly the direction she took. She stopped in front of the lodging house where both Dunbar and Ritter had entered.
His mind tried to conceive what possible reason she would have to be standing in front of a filthy boarding house.
Ritter’s words tumbled around in his brain. What did he say? He was to meet a woman. He didn’t trust her. She loved that son of a bitch Dunbar.
Love?
His world tilted. His mind whirled into a black void of obscene proportions.
The woman turned her head and glanced around at her surrounds. That motion revealed her profile.
“No.” The word tumbled out like a growl. His hands clenched into fists. His blood pumped through his veins so hard he thought his head would explode. When she went into the lodging house, Payton followed.
The woman of whom Ritter had spoken would pay money for proof that Dunbar lived. But why Julia? What did she want with the man? The only conceivable answer enraged him. Julia loved Lawrence Dunbar.
He pushed open the door to the lodging house. If he found her with him, he didn’t know what he would do. The palm of his hand wrapped around the butt
of his Colt. He knew he would kill Dunbar out right. It wouldn’t be in cold blood. It would be in a hot, furious fit of anger. He’d put a bullet right between his eyes. But Julia...
His hand moved from his weapon. His fingers tightened and flexed. His mind’s eye could see his hands slip around her slender throat. But could he actually squeeze her windpipe until all the breath left her body?
He’d find out shortly.
He bolted up the stairs. The room Ritter occupied set at the back of the building. He stormed down the hallway. Other men loitered in the corridor, but he pushed them out of his path.
He stood in front of the door. His rage consumed his thoughts. His hands gnarled into claws. While one hand went around the Colt, his other hand reached for the knob.
The door jerked opened before he grabbed it. Julia darted from the room so quickly that her body smacked into his chest. The momentum threw her back a step. She grabbed at the door jamb to regain her footing. She tried to dash past him for the hallway, but he grabbed her wrist.
His other hand held his weapon. He used his foot to kick the door open wider.
She fought to free herself. Her fist pounded on his back, but he dragged her with him as he entered the room.
His gaze took in the surroundings at a single glance. He saw no movement. A candle burned on top of a small dresser. The bed set in the center of the room. On the floor, on the other side, lay the twitching body of Ritter. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. He was a fresh kill. Dark red blood still oozed from the slash across his neck and pooled around him on the floor.
He jerked on Julia’s arm until she stood in front of him.
“Who killed him? Was it you?”
“Let me go.” She tried to wrench her arm free. She clawed at his fingers in an attempt to pry them from her wrist.
He lifted her hand so the candlelight flickered across her fist. Her fingers clutched a revolver.
A bullet hadn’t caused Ritter’s death. This was the work of Lawrence Dunbar.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and his gaze darted to the hallway. He glanced at the faces of the men loitering there. None of them were Dunbar. The killer had already escaped.
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