“There are,” Hickok said, “but I know how you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean about women,” Hickok said. “I know how you are, and I know how they are about you.”
“The other one’s a woman?”
“Yes,” Hickok said, “and she’s right pretty.”
“Which lord does she belong to?”
“I ain’t got that part figured out,” Hickok said. “But I know one thing.”
“What?”
“She’s trouble,” Hickok said “And with you along, she’ll be more trouble.”
“Well, I won’t come along,” Clint said. “You haven’t asked me anyway.”
“He has.”
“I don’t care what he wants,” Clint said.
“Well, hell,” Hickok said, “I’d like you to come along, but let’s see if I can get him to pay you first. How about that?”
“That would make a difference,” Clint said.
“How about another beer?”
“Here or the saloon?”
“Here,” Hickok said. “There’s less people.”
They called the waiter over and ordered two more beers.
“But sir, the other gentleman already paid the bill,” the waiter said.
“You know what?” Hickok said. “We’ll pay for these ourselves.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said. “Comin’ up.”
FIFTY-SIX
They had two more beers, caught up on the time that had gone by since they last saw each other.
“What happened with you and Phil Sheridan?” Clint asked. “Last time I saw you, you had a telegram from him asking you to join him at Fort Laramie.”
“Turns out Sheridan didn’t need me so much,” Hickok said. “You know what I went and did?”
“What?”
“I joined another show like Cody’s,” Hickok said, “only it wasn’t like Cody’s. So I quit them right quick.”
They exchanged stories about a couple of jobs, then paid their bill and went outside.
“I gotta outfit for tomorrow,” Hickok said.
“Don’t buy with me in mind,” Clint said.
“I’ll just buy,” Hickok said. “It’s their money. If you come, you come. You can decide tonight, like you and the lord said.”
“Is that what you have to call them?” Clint asked. “Lords?”
“I ain’t quite got that figured out yet either,” Hickok said. “I’ll see you in the lobby tonight for supper. ’Bout eight.”
“I’ll be there.”
* * *
Unbeknownst to both Clint and Hickok at the time, Lord Greybrook returned to his hotel suite at the Kansas Station Hotel, where his partner, Lord Cedric Temple, was waiting.
“Where have you been?” Temple asked.
“I had a very interesting lunch with Mr. Hickok and a friend of his.”
“A friend? Who?”
“A man named Clint Adams.”
Temple stared at Greybrook, who was about eight years younger. While Greybrook was tall and powerfully built, Temple—while also powerful—was shorter and stockier.
“Clint Adams?” Temple said. “Do I know that name?”
“Perhaps you know him as the Gunsmith?”
Temple got out of his chair and said, “Yes, of course. The Gunsmith. Another of the colonies’ famed legends.”
“Indeed,” Greybrook said.
“Edward,” Temple said, “are you thinking what I am thinking?”
“I believe I am, Cedric.”
The door to the bedroom opened and a woman stepped out. She was tall, full-bodied, with a mountain of blond hair piled up on her head. She was wearing a nightgown with a diaphanous robe over it. She would undoubtedly be the most beautiful woman in whatever room she happened to enter.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” she said.
“Of what, my dear?” Temple asked.
“Of you and your cousin thinking, Cedric,” she said. “What is going on?”
“We have an idea,” Greybrook said.
“Your ideas have a way of going awry, dear boy,” she said. “especially when you agree on one.”
“Not this time,” Greybrook said. “This time we have found more than we bargained for.”
“That never sounds good,” she said.
“Antonia,” Temple said, “just listen before you scoff.”
The beautiful woman sighed, walked to the armchair Temple had recently quit, settled herself into it, and said, “Oh, very well, fill me in, then.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
Clint killed the hours between lunch and supper by staying in his room and reading. He decided to stay away from the saloons. That way he wouldn’t get involved in anything—like a poker game—that might make him forget his appointment. He was very curious to meet the other lord, as well as the woman—a lady perhaps?
Lord Greybrook had seemed a very easygoing, amiable gent. Clint wondered if the other one, Lord Temple, was the same. And if they were easygoing, did they stay that way, or was it only when things were going their way? What would happen, for instance, if—God forbid—one of them actually had to load his own gun?
When it came close to supper time, he washed up, dressed in his best clothes, and left the room to go down to the lobby to meet Hickok and the hunting party. When he got there, he only saw Hickok, who was also decked out in his finest, with his hair glistening and his mustache looking glorious.
“Bill,” Clint said, “my God, this woman must be lovely. Look at you.”
“I always look like this,” Hickok said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Lately,” Hickok said. “Come on, they went to the restaurant and I waited for you.”
As they left the hotel, Clint asked, “Where are we eating?”
“Someplace the desk clerk told the lords about.”
They walked several blocks before they came to O’Grady’s Irish Pub.
“A pub?” Clint asked.
“It means saloon,” Hickok said.
They walked, found it was more than a saloon. It was a full restaurant, with white tablecloths on the tables. Toward the back they saw their party—the two lords and their lady.
A man in a black suit approached them but Hickok said, “That’s all right, partner, we see our friends.”
“Aren’t you Wild Bill Hickok?” the middle-aged man asked.
“I am.”
“It’s a pleasure to have you in our place, Mr. Hickok.”
“Thanks. We’d like to join our friends now.”
“Of course.”
They walked across the floor to the table. As they got closer, Clint saw that the woman became more and more beautiful.
“Ah, gentlemen,” Lord Greybrook said, standing up. “Please join us. This is Lord Temple, and the Lady Antonia Bates. Cedric, Antonia, this is Mr. Clint Adams, and this gentleman is our guide, the famed Wild Bill Hickok.”
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you,” Lord Temple said.
“A privilege, gentlemen,” Antonia said, only she was looking directly at Clint, and not at all at Hickok.
“Sit, sit,” Lord Greybrook said, “there are no British pubs in Kansas City, but the desk clerk told us about this Irish one.”
There were two available chairs, on either side of the table. Clint ended up sitting directly across from Antonia.
“Pubs,” Hickok said. “Where does that word come from?”
“Oh, in England we call them public houses,” Temple said, “hence the sobriquet ‘pubs.’”
Hickok looked at Clint with a deadpan expression. Clint knew he’d never heard the word “sobriquet” but was able to figur
e out what it meant.
“I am afraid we went ahead and ordered for everyone,” Lord Greybrook said. “Shepherd’s pie.”
“Pie for supper?” Hickok asked.
“They don’t have Yorkshire pudding,” Lord Temple said.
“Pudding?” Hickok asked.
“Wait until the shepherd’s pie comes, Mr. Hickok,” Antonia said. “You will see.”
A waiter came and set down five huge glasses of beer.
“Thank you,” Lord Greybrook said.
“Yes, sir. Your food will be here in a moment.”
“Mr. Hickok,” Lord Temple said, “have you properly outfitted us for our hunt tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir, but are you sure you wouldn’t want to pick out your own horses?”
“No, no,” Temple said, “we completely trust your judgment when it comes to the horses.”
“Now the weapons,” Greybrook said. “We brought our own. When it comes to weapons, we trust no one.”
“That’s a good rule,” Hickok said.
Two waiters came to the table carrying steaming plates and set them down. Hickok almost poked the white substance on the top with his finger, but resisted.
“Those are potatoes, Mr. Hickok,” Antonia said, “mashed potatoes. Beneath them you will find beef and all kinds of vegetables.”
“Sounds good,” Hickok said, still a bit dubious.
“It is,” Clint said. “I had it once when I was in London.”
“Well, what is it you Yanks say?” Temple asked. “Dig in?”
FIFTY-EIGHT
It was obvious from the first bite that Hickok liked the shepherd’s pie. He ate every bit of it, then used some bread to soak up all of the brown gravy.
“I assume you enjoyed that, Mr. Hickok?” Antonia asked.
Hickok looked up at her, his mouth full of bread.
“Excuse my manners, ma’am,” he said. “I’m really not used to eatin’ with a lady.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Hickok,” she assured him. “It is gratifying to see a man enjoy his food.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you, Mr. Adams?” she asked.
“I thought it was good.”
“Not as good as at home,” Lord Greybrook said, “but it will do.”
“Oh, Edward,” Lord Temple said, “I thought it was quite good.”
“It was . . . fine,” Greybrook said. He was apparently harder to please than his countryman and countrywoman.
After the food, they had more beer, and coffee. Clint and Hickok had some pie—real pie—but the two lords only had more beer, while the lady had a cup of tea.
“Mr. Adams,” Greybrook said, “I told Edward and Antonia that I invited you to join us on our hunt.”
“Yes,” Antonia said, “we both think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“Will you be hunting, ma’am?” Clint asked.
“But of course,” she said. “Do you think I came all this way just to watch?”
“Antonia can outshoot most men,” Temple said proudly.
Clint still hadn’t figured out which lord she was with.
“Well,” Clint said, “that would be interesting to watch.”
“By all means,” she said, “come along and watch.”
He noticed the two lords and lady watching him intently, while Hickok concentrated on his apple pie.
“Well, I guess I will.”
“Mr. Hickok,” Lord Greybrook said, “you will need to add to our outfit for Mr. Adams.”
“Nope,” Hickok said.
“What do you mean, no?” Greybrook asked.
“He means he already figured I was going,” Clint said. “He outfitted with me in mind.”
Hickok grinned.
“Excellent,” Greybrook said. “What time shall we start?”
“Early,” Hickok said, “just after first light.”
“We will be ready,” Temple said.
“Let’s settle the bill and return to the hotel,” Greybrook said to Temple. “We have guns to clean.”
“By the way,” Clint said, “I understood there were two more of you. Why weren’t they here to eat with us?”
“Oh, you mean our porters,” Greybrook said. “They carry our weapons, and load them, but they do not eat with us.”
“I see.”
“You have servants in your country, don’t you, Mr. Adams?” Lady Antonia asked.
“We used to,” he said. “They were called slaves. We fought a war to free them.”
“We do not have slaves, sir,” Temple said. “We pay them good wages.”
“They just have to eat by themselves, is that it?” Clint asked.
“They eat with each other,” Greybrook said, “as we do. They accept their place.”
“I see,” Clint said.
“Do you?” Lady Antonia asked.
“Yes,” Clint said, returning her look, “I believe I do.”
* * *
After the lords paid the bill, they all left the restaurant.
“Edward, I’d like to take a walk around the town,” Antonia said.
“Cedric and I need to see to the guns, my dear,” Greybrook said. “So do you.”
“I will,” she said. “When I get back.”
“This ain’t a place for a lady like you to be walking alone, Miss Antonia,” Hickok said.
“I won’t be alone,” she said. “Mr. Adams will walk with me. Won’t you, Mr. Adams?”
“If that’s what you’d like, Lady Antonia,” he said, “of course.”
“Thank you, sir.” She looked at the two lords. “I will see you both back at the hotel.”
“Very well, Antonia,” Temple said.
“See you later, Bill.”
“At the saloon,” Hickok said.
Clint nodded, extended his arm to Lady Antonia, and they began to walk.
FIFTY-NINE
Antonia was interested in seeing as much of Kansas City as she could in that one walk. Clint had been there a few times before, so he was able to show her some of the city.
While they walked, they talked hunting, which led them to talk about guns.
“What kind of gun are you using?”
“I use a Westley Richards double rifle.”
“Double?”
“It has side-by-side barrels,” she said. “It’s used mostly in Africa, for big game, depending on the caliber. You will see tomorrow. Edward and Cedric have their own preferences, as I am sure you do.”
“I used Sharps when I was hunting buffalo,” he said.
“Ah, the Big Fifty?”
“You know your guns.”
“You no longer carry it?”
“Too big for anything else,” he said. “A Big Fifty would cut a man in half.”
“That would certainly kill a man,” she said. “Isn’t that what you do? Kill men?”
“As a matter of fact, no, that’s not what I do,” he said.
“I am sorry if I insulted you,” she said. “All I know of you is your reputation. You and your friend, Mr. Hickok. What we have heard across the pond is that you both . . . well, kill men.”
“We have killed men,” Clint said, “but speaking for myself, I have not killed anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“And Mr. Hickok?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“I have the feeling Mr. Hickok would not appreciate such a question.”
“Probably not,” Clint said, “but he might take it from someone who looks like you.”
“Well, that certainly sounds like a compliment,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I think we should be getting you back to the
hotel now, Lady Antonia,” Clint said. “That is what I’m supposed to call you, isn’t it?”
“If we were in my country, yes,” she said, “but since we’re in your country, you may simply call me Antonia.”
“Thank you, Antonia. Let’s go this way.”
At the hotel they parted company in the lobby.
“Thank you for seeing me around town, Mr. Adams.”
“It was my pleasure, Antonia. And I think you should start calling me Clint.”
“I will be seeing you in the morning, Clint.”
* * *
He watched her go up the stairs, then went over to the saloon, where Hickok was standing at the bar with a glass of whiskey. Clint joined him.
“There you are,” Hickok said. “Drink?”
“A beer,” Clint said.
Hickok waved to the bartender. There were a couple of poker games going on, and Clint was surprised Hickok wasn’t in one of them.
“No poker?” he asked.
“Not tonight,” Hickok said. “I’m thinkin’.”
“About what?”
“Two lords and a lady.”
“What about them?”
“You hear all them hunting stories they told at supper?”
“I did.”
“Makes me wonder why they’d wanna come here and hunt buffalo after they’ve already hunted all that big game in Africa?”
“You think they’re here for a different reason, Bill?” Clint asked.
“Maybe,” Hickok replied, “but for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.”
“Maybe they’re planning to hunt for Indians after all.”
“They come up against some Comanches or Kiowa,” Hickok said, “I guess we’ll find out just what kind of hunters they really are.”
“Maybe we will.”
SIXTY
The next morning Clint and Hickok were waiting out in front of the hotel with the horses when the two lords and the lady came out. All three looked refreshed and rested. They were wearing some pretty fancy hunting clothes, expensive jackets and trousers, not to mention leather boots. It was early, the weather was brisk, and Clint and Hickok were also wearing jackets.
Further Adventures of James Butler Hickok (9781101601853) Page 15
