"I'm fine," Simone assured her. "I'm sorry I disturbed you. You can go back to bed."
"Oh, 'twas no bother, ma'am. If you're sure you'll not be needin' me. . ."
"I'm certain. Good night."
"Good night, ma'am." The woman retreated up the stairs.
Simone went back to the sideboard, and this time her hands were rock steady as she picked up the glass and the bottle of brandy. She poured a drink and tossed it back, savoring the warmth of the liquor in her belly.
She knew what she had to do now-ghost or no ghost. That didn't matter; neither did Brenda Durand's unexpected arrival. Let the girl grab half of the town. It wouldn't matter because she wouldn't have any real power.
Power was all that counted, when you got right down to it. Money was just a means of acquiring it, and there were other ways. Simone had run things around here for more than a year, and she was going to continue giving the orders.
She was going to be the mayor of Wind River, damn it, and between that and the wealth she still controlled, no one would ever be able to tell her what to do. She was in charge. The first step was winning that election, no matter what sort of stunts Hank Parker tried to pull.
Her lips curved in a smile. She almost hoped he did try something else.
If he did, he would soon find out what a big mistake he had made . . .
Chapter 6
Hank Parker scratched a lucifer into life and held the flame to the tip of the long cigar clenched between his teeth. He puffed on the cigar until it was burning properly, then shook out the match and dropped it in the bucket of sand next to his desk.
Parker took the cigar out of his mouth and leaned back in his chair. There was a big smile on his face.
The election for mayor was less than a week away. He had waited until fairly late to throw his hat into the ring, but it hadn't taken him long to make up some ground on Simone McKay.
The women in the settlement were solidly behind Simone. However, there were a lot more men than women in Wind River, and nearly all of them stopped into the Pronghorn for a drink at one time or another.
Parker had bought a lot of rounds since announcing that he was running for mayor. That was all right; he could afford the whiskey.
What he couldn't afford was for Simone to be elected so that she would have a chance to carry out all her promises.
Most of those campaign pledges had to do with forcing Parker and those like him out of business. Hell, she wouldn't really be satisfied until all of those she considered unsavory elements had left town completely.
Parker didn't intend to let that happen.
The door of the office in the back of the Pronghorn opened, and one of the saloon's bartenders came in. He was carrying a canvas pouch. As he placed it on the desk he said, "There you go, boss. That's tonight's take so far."
Parker grunted in approval. He balanced his cigar on the edge of a heavy glass ashtray, then pulled a fat gold watch from his vest pocket, flipped it open, and saw that the hour was after midnight.
The Pronghorn never really closed down, but the bulk of the night's business was over. There were probably still a few men at the bar who would drink until they passed out, and there might still be a poker game going on, but that was the extent of the activity in the big room on the other side of the office door. Parker pulled the pouch containing the night's receipts closer to him and said, "All right, Bud. You can go home."
"G'night, Mr. Parker," the bartender said as he left the office.
Parker just grunted again. He had the pouch open, and as soon as he was alone and the office door was closed again, he upended the pouch and poured out its contents on the desk.
Most of the money was in coins, but there were a few bills and even a single nugget of gold. Parker's grin widened as he picked up a handful of coins and let them slip through his blunt, thick fingers to clink back onto the pile. He never got tired of hearing that sound, and the mere thought that someone wanted to take it away from him was enough to make his jaw tighten in anger and resolve. A soft knock on the door made Parker look up sharply. "Who is it?" he growled.
"It's me again, boss," came the voice of Bud, the bartender who had just brought the money into the office. "There's somebody out here who wants to see you."
"Tell 'em to go away," Parker called through the door, not caring whose feelings he might hurt by such a brusque response.
There was a moment of quiet, and Parker thought he heard some whispering on the other side of the door, even though he couldn't make out any words. Then Bud said, "The lady claims it's mighty important that she sees you, Mr. Parker."
A lady, eh? Parker frowned. He liked women as much as the next man, but he'd never made a fool of himself over one, never let himself be led around by the nose like some gents. Still, he was curious who this female was who wanted to see him, so he said, "Wait a minute," and started stuffing the coins and bills back into the canvas pouch.
When he had the money cleared away and the pouch locked in the middle drawer of his desk, he stood up and went over to the door. He grasped the knob and swung it open.
Bud was standing just outside the office, a nervous look on his thin face. "Sorry, boss," he said immediately, "but she insisted it was important and said she had to see you—"
Parker looked past the bartender at the young woman who stood there. He knew right away that he had seen her before, but he couldn't place her. She was eighteen or twenty, pretty in a coarse sort of way, with long, straight pale hair that hung down on both sides of her face. She wore a tight dress that clung to her smallish breasts and rounded hips. Parker frowned as he tried to recall who she was.
"You don't remember me, do you, Mr. Parker?" she asked with a smile.
"Sorry—" he began, then the name popped out of his memory. "Becky, isn't it? Becky Lewis?"
"That's right," she said with a nod. "Thanks for letting me talk to you."
He remembered her now. She was a soiled dove, one of the women who had worked in the backstreet cribs. She had never worked directly for him as one of his girls, but he had seen her a few times in the old tent saloon he'd had before building the Pronghorn.
As he cast his memory back he couldn't recall what had happened to her. She just hadn't been around anymore.
Now she was back, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she was paying him a visit.
But there was only one way to find out, so he inclined his head toward the office behind him and said, "Come on in." Glancing past Bud, he saw that the crowd in the saloon was as sparse as he expected at this hour. The sole bartender left behind the hardwood could handle it without any trouble. "Go on home like I told you, Bud," added Parker.
Bud nodded and hurried away as Parker stepped aside to let Becky Lewis enter the office. He closed the door firmly behind her and gestured toward the chair in front of the desk.
"Have a seat. What brings you back to Wind River, Becky?"
"How did you know I was ever gone, Mr. Parker?" she asked as she sat down. "I didn't work for you, after all."
"No, but I had my eye on you," Parker lied. She had been just one more pathetic whore as far as he was concerned, of no more interest to him than any of her sisters. He wanted to indulge his curiosity, though, so he went on, "I was thinking about offering you a job when you up and disappeared."
"I didn't just up and disappear," she said. "I was paid to leave town."
Parker went behind the desk and started to sit down in the big leather chair. "Paid?" he repeated in surprise. "Who paid you to leave Wind River?"
"Simone McKay."
Parker froze, halfway into the chair. His eyebrows lifted. He truly was surprised now. He put his knuckles on the desk and leaned forward. "Simone McKay paid you to leave town? Why the hell would she do a thing like that?"
"Because I was carrying her husband's baby," Becky said.
Parker let out a little exhalation of breath, like he had been punched in the belly. He sat, coming down in the c
hair harder than he had intended. His heart had started to thud faster than usual in his chest. To calm himself down, he picked up his cigar, drew in a lungful of smoke, and slowly blew it back out. "Interesting," he said, trying not to reveal just how very interesting this revelation was to him. "But what's that got to do with me?"
"I was over in Rawlins and heard that you were running for mayor of Wind River. I thought you might want to know about what Mrs. McKay did, so I caught a ride with some freight wagons that were headed in this direction. I didn't have enough money for a train ticket."
This was starting to make sense now, Parker thought as he nodded. Like all whores, Becky Lewis was after money. She had traded a few nights of letting a bunch of freighters use her on the trail for the chance to cash in on something she knew.
And that knowledge might well be worth something, Parker admitted to himself. But he wasn't going to let Becky see how eager he was. Keeping his face expressionless, he said, "You must have thought I could use what you told me against Mrs. McKay in the election campaign. You figured I'd pay you for telling me about it."
She pushed back one of the wings of blond hair that had fallen forward over her face. "I got a right," she said. "The McKays ruined my life."
As if that life had been much to brag about in the first place, Parker thought. He puffed on the cigar and said, "Go on." He could tell the girl wanted to talk, and he was going to let her do just that.
"He was Mr. High and Mighty Land Developer," she said, her voice taking on a tone of bitter anger. "But that didn't stop him from coming to see a poor girl who'd decided that selling her body was the only way she was going to be able to live. Then when he got me in the family way, he swore the baby wasn't his. Didn't want a thing to do with me then, no, sir!" She sniffed in righteous indignation. "I tell you, I sure didn't shed any tears when Mr. Andrew McKay got himself killed. I figured it served him right."
"What about his wife?" asked Parker. "How did she find out about all this?"
"That doctor fella told her, I reckon. I went to see him when I realized I was going to have a baby. I told him about McKay. It was about that time that man Durand turned outlaw and kidnapped her. Once she got back safely to town, though, after she'd shot Durand, she came to see me and gave me enough money to get out of Wind River and start over somewhere else with my baby. She didn't want anybody knowing what sort of man her husband really was." A sly smile appeared on Becky's face. "She didn't know how much I really knew. I could've taken her for a lot more money. But I figured I'd do like she said and make a fresh start. I had enough for that. Thought I'd just raise my baby and try to be respectable for a change."
So Judson Kent had known about Andrew McKay's connection with this soiled dove, too, Parker thought. And Kent was one of Simone's biggest supporters now. That knowledge could come in handy as well. It wouldn't look good if he revealed that the town's doctor had helped a whore blackmail Wind River's leading citizen.
He still didn't have all the story, though. He asked, "What happened? How come you didn't do like you'd planned and start over somewhere?"
"I would have," Becky said miserably, "but the baby . . . I lost the baby. I was only six months along when she tried to come. I was in Laramie then. The midwife said there wasn't nothing she could do, said it wasn't my fault, that it just wasn't meant to be. But I knew better. I was being punished for the sinful life I'd led. Don't you reckon that's what happened, Mr. Parker? I was trying to live a better life, but the Lord just couldn't let it go. He had to get back at me for what I'd done in the past."
Parker shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. "I don't know anything about things like that," he snapped. "You want to talk about that, you'd best go find that damned blacksmith who fancies himself a sky pilot. But maybe you'd rather talk about how much what you've told me is worth."
Becky's face, which had softened momentarily with remembered grief, hardened again. "Damn right," she said. "It ought to be worth plenty. Once you tell everybody how Mrs. McKay paid a whore to leave town because the girl was carrying her husband's bastard, a lot of people won't vote for her."
Nodding slowly, Parker considered what she had said. It was true that this information might damage Simone's reputation somewhat. But there was another side to it as well.
"Not necessarily," he said harshly. "Think about it. What did she really do? She tried to protect the good name of her dead husband. You think folks are going to condemn her for that? Hell, if I raise a stink about this, some people might vote for her just out of pity!"
Becky began shaking her head. "No. No, that's not what would happen—"
"It might," Parker cut in. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a double eagle. "Here. I reckon that's all your story's worth to me." He flipped the twenty-dollar gold piece across the desk to her.
Becky's hand shot out and closed over the coin. The movement was obviously instinctive. But her face was set in a look of anger and frustration, and she protested, "That ain't fair! It's worth a hell of a lot more than twenty dollars!"
"Not to me," Parker said coolly. He had always driven a hard bargain, and he didn't intend to change now.
Becky's eyes narrowed, and a cunning cast came over her features. "There's more," she said.
Parker's hand clenched into a fist and thumped down hard on the desk. "Don't try to sell me a pack of lies, girl! I'll boot your rump out of here so fast you won't know what happened!"
"It's the truth!" Becky insisted as she flinched back against the chair in the face of Parker's anger. "I wouldn't lie to you, Mr. Parker, I swear it!"
"No little whore makes a fool out of Hank Parker." He saw the look of genuine fear in her eyes and relished it. "If you've got something else to say, spit it out."
"I . . . I can make her get out of the election for good. She won't even run for office."
That was more like it, Parker thought, again being careful not to show the reaction. If the girl knew something that he could use to force Simone out of the race entirely, he had to have that knowledge. He leaned back and said around the cigar, "Tell me about it."
"It. . . it has to do with her husband's death."
"That's old news," Parker said. "William Durand shot him during that brawl at the railroad station."
Becky shook her head. "No, he didn't." Her voice grew stronger, took on conviction. "Durand didn't kill McKay. I was there that day. I saw who did."
Parker's teeth clamped down so hard on the cigar that he bit through it as he realized what she was about to say. Most of the cheroot fell on the desk. He ignored it, spit out the butt still in his mouth, and leaned forward eagerly, unable to stop himself. "Say it," he hissed.
"Simone McKay killed her husband," Becky Lewis said with a smile. "I saw her do it."
Parker surged to his feet, the expression on his face so fierce that Becky stopped smiling and cringed back again. "Tell me what you saw," he ordered. "Everything, damn it!"
"I . . . I told you, I was there on the platform when the first train came in. I saw the fight start, and then I . . . I tried to get out of there before I got hurt. But I was still there when Andrew McKay tried to push through the crowd to get to his wife. I was about ten feet away from her, and all of a sudden there was a little clear spot between the two of us. I saw her take a pistol out of her bag—"
"What kind of pistol?" Parker broke in. He had to be certain about this. There couldn't be any doubts.
"I don't know," Becky said with a shake of her head. "I don't know anything about guns. It was just a little pistol, you know, with a barrel about this long." She held up her hands with the fingers about three inches apart.
Parker grunted. That description could fit any number of pocket pistols, but at least it made sense. He would have known Becky was lying if she'd said Simone had hauled a full-sized revolver out of her bag. "Go on," he said.
"She had the pistol up close to her body, so it was hard to see. But I saw it, all right. And then her husband pushed a man out of the way a
nd came up to her. He was looking back over his shoulder at something, though, and I don't reckon he ever saw what she did. She stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his belly and then pulled the trigger."
It could have happened that way, Parker realized. In the confusion of that melee on the platform, it sure could have.
"She jammed the gun back in her bag and stepped away from him before he even had a chance to fall down," Becky went on. "Then as soon as she had a little distance between them, she started screaming and crying about how her husband had been hurt. She didn't know I'd seen what she did. I got the hell out of there."
Parker's pulse was hammering in his head. "Why would she kill her husband?" he asked.
"Well . . . think about it. McKay died, and Durand got everything. Then Durand died, and it was Mrs. McKay who wound up with the whole town. Maybe that was what she planned to have happen all along. Maybe Durand really played right into her hands when he kidnapped her. She was able to kill him and blame her husband's murder on him."
It could have happened that way, Parker thought.
"Why didn't you go to her right away and demand money to keep quiet about what you'd seen?"
"I was scared to," Becky said. "I had just seen her murder her own husband in cold blood." She laughed hollowly. "You think I wanted to get on her bad side?"
Parker considered for a moment, then nodded. Becky wasn't the kind of woman who possessed an abundance of either brains or courage. But she was smart enough to have found a way to cash in.
"So you blackmailed her over the fact that McKay had gotten you pregnant, but not over his murder?"
Becky shrugged. "I figured she wouldn't try to kill me over what her husband did, and I was right. She was happy just to pay me off and get me out of town."
"And you protected yourself even more by approaching her through Doc Kent." Parker smiled thinly. "That was smart, Becky, pretty smart."
She glowed at his praise. "Thanks. I thought so."
"But now things have changed." Parker began to pace back and forth behind the desk. "Things didn't work out like you wanted, so you've come back for more. Now you don't have to get Simone to pay you off, though. You figured you'd come to me."
Judgement Day (Wind River Book 6) Page 6
