Vendetta Trail

by Robert Vaughan

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Apolloni, what can I do for you?”

  “Do you know that woman’s name?” Apolloni asked, pointing to the blonde who was standing by the piano.

  The purser chuckled. “I can see why you might be interested. She is truly a lovely thing, isn’t she?” the purser replied.

  “Is she the piano player’s, uh, companion?”

  “They do seem to be getting along quite well, don’t they? But I don’t believe there is really any connection. I mean, she didn’t even come onboard until Caruthersville. I believe her name is Smith. Miss Smith.”

  “What is her first name?”

  “My—and you said you were the shy one,” the purser said. “Well, I’m not supposed to do this, but her name is Rachel. Rachel Smith.”

  “Rachel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good luck with her, Mr. Apolloni,” the purser said as he walked away. He laughed again. “As they say, hope springs eternal.”

  Rachel, Apolloni thought. Yes, this was the one. He didn’t know what such a beautiful girl could possibly have done to cause Tangeleno to require that she be killed, but his wasn’t to question why.

  When Hawke heard a light knock, he knew who it would be even before he opened the door. He had not yet gone to bed because he was rearranging a piece of music for tomorrow evening. He set the music aside, then walked over to the door.

  “Rachel?” he called quietly.

  “Yes,” Rachel replied.

  Hawke opened the door, causing a wedge of light from the companionway to spill into his cabin. Rachel was standing in the doorway.

  “So much for the mystery,” she said. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Because you are the one I wanted it to be,” Hawke said.

  “Aren’t you the smooth talker, though?” she asked. “Are you going to ask me in?”

  Hawke stepped aside. “Yes, of course I am. Come in,” he said.

  Rachel stepped into the room, then Hawke closed the door behind her.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” Hawke asked, pointing toward a bottle.

  “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” Rachel walked over to sit on the edge of Hawke’s bunk and she waited while he poured two glasses of wine. He brought the glasses over, then handed one to her.

  “What shall we toast?” Rachel asked.

  “How about a toast for Georgia and memories?” Hawke suggested.

  To Hawke’s surprise, Rachel shook her head. “There’s nothing about Georgia I want to remember,” she said.

  “All right, then you make the toast.”

  “To Fancy,” Rachel said, holding out her glass. The glass captured a beam of light from the lantern and the burgundy fired brilliantly.

  “To Fancy,” Hawke replied.

  They drank their wine, then Rachel set her glass down.

  “Mason, while you were at the Evening Star, why did you never come visit me?”

  “It wasn’t just you. I didn’t visit any of the girls,” Hawke replied.

  “I know.” Rachel smiled. “And that’s the only reason I’m not angry with you. If you had visited one of the others, but not me, I wouldn’t even be talking to you now.”

  “I was working there. I didn’t think it was my place.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. It wouldn’t have cost you anything.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that I didn’t deem it appropriate to mix business with…well, business,” Hawke said with a little chuckle.

  “We’re not working together now,” Rachel said. “At least not yet.”

  Even as she was talking, Rachel began slipping out of the dress she was wearing and Hawke saw that she had on nothing but a silk-muslin chemise underneath. The soft light of the lantern highlighted the thin garment, making it shimmer as if by its own golden light. The chemise draped her form like a filmy curtain, and the nipples of her breasts stood out in bold relief.

  “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me? Are you going to join me or do you want me to put my clothes back on and leave?”

  Hawke smiled. “Between the two choices you just offered, I would rather join you,” Hawke said. He leaned down and kissed her.

  For just a second Rachel hesitated. Whores never kissed. But she wasn’t a whore now, so this was different. She opened her lips to his kiss.

  “Mason,” Rachel whimpered.

  “Yes?”

  “I…I have a confession to make.”

  “Wait. You’re not going to tell me you aren’t a virgin, are you?” Hawke asked.

  Rachel looked at him with a shocked expression on her face, then, seeing the devilment in his eyes, she laughed out loud.

  “You are awful!” she said.

  “What is your confession?”

  “I want to do this. I’ve never done this before because I wanted to.”

  Hawke took the lead then, kissing her a second time, more urgently than before. She responded by pushing her body against his.

  Hawke sat on the bed beside her, then gently pushed her down. He kissed her again, once more pulling her body against his, feeling her softness against the hardness of his muscles. His kisses became more demanding and Rachel became more responsive, positioning herself here and moving herself there to accommodate him.

  This was all new to Rachel. Although she had been with many men, more men than she could count, she had never done anything more than spread her legs and bear the ordeal. Now she was experiencing a sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was as if hot tea was flowing through her veins. Is this what the other girls talked about when they said that there times when they actually enjoyed it? Why had she never felt anything like this before? She used the tip of her tongue to dart across his lips, then dip into his mouth.

  The warmth Hawke felt erupted now to a raging inferno, and he began to pull at the hem of Rachel’s chemise while removing his own clothes until they were naked against each other.

  Hawke moved his hard demanding body over her soft yielding thighs and, poised above her, paused for a moment as if prolonging the experience. Then he went ahead.

  Chapter 24

  WHEN APOLLONI SAW RACHEL WALKING DOWN the passageway, he looked around quickly for a place to get out of sight. Just off the passageway was a small alcove that contained a wound-up fire hose and a red-handled axe. It was deep enough to allow Apolloni to hide, so he stepped into it.

  When Rachel reached this end of the passageway, it would be a simple thing to step out and grab her, then pull her out onto the deck. One quick slice across her throat is all he would need—and it would be over.

  But she didn’t come all the way to this end. Instead, Apolloni heard a knock and, leaning out to look around the corner, he saw the door open to the piano player’s room. The woman and the piano player spoke only for a second, then she went inside.

  Apolloni waited for a few minutes longer, expecting her to come out again. When she didn’t, he grew frustrated and sneaked back down the narrow companionway, stopping just outside the door. He listened carefully to see if he could hear anything.

  He heard nothing.

  What could possibly be going on in there? Then, realizing what it must be, he smiled. For a moment he considered going in right now, killing the piano player, and then having his way with the woman before he killed her. The thought of it gave him an erection and he rubbed himself through his pants as he contemplated the pleasure of it.

  As he continued to think about it, though, he realized that his plan wouldn’t work. He would have to kill the piano player first and while he was killing him, the woman was sure to call out, perhaps even scream.

  Pleasure would have to wait. He was here to do a job, and he didn’t intend to let anything get in his way. He moved down to the end of the passageway again, then stepped back into the fire hose alcove to wait for them to finish. He knew that she would have to pass by him to get to her own cabin.

  “I h
ope you are enjoying this,” he said under his breath. “Because this will be the last time for you.”

  He waited for almost an hour, then, thinking that she might spend the entire night in the room with him, was about to give up. He stepped out of the alcove just as he heard the door open and, quickly, he stepped back into the alcove again.

  Looking carefully around the corner of the alcove, he saw the woman by the light of the wall-mounted lantern. He couldn’t see the man because of the door, but when she leaned slightly forward, he knew they must be sharing their last kiss.

  The door closed and the woman started toward her own cabin. Apolloni pulled his knife out and let his fingers wrap familiarly, almost caressingly, around the handle.

  Hawke turned away from the door and was about to go to bed when he saw that Rachel had left her shawl. Grabbing it, he opened the door. He was going to call out to her, but thought it might disturb some of the other passengers, to say nothing of embarrassing Rachel. So, grabbing the shawl, he started down the passageway toward her.

  That was when he saw a man suddenly step out into the little hallway. At first, he thought it was just a coincidence and that the man had come from a room. He hesitated, not only because he didn’t want to embarrass Rachel, but because he was only half-dressed. Then he saw that the man was holding a knife in his right hand.

  Hawke moved quickly and silently, coming up behind the assailant, grabbed the man’s shoulder, and spun him around.

  “What?” the assailant gasped, startled by Hawke’s action. Then, seeing that his adversary was the piano player, he smiled.

  “Oh!” Rachel gasped when she saw what was going on.

  “Rachel, get out of here!” Hawke said.

  Rachel moved out of the way, but she couldn’t leave.

  “Well now, piano player,” he said. “I’d planned to kill both of you. You’ve just made it easy for me.”

  The assailant bent his knees slightly, leaned forward at the waist, and held his knife in his right hand, palm up, in front of him. He moved it in tiny circles, like the head of a coiled snake. With his left hand, he curled his fingers in invitation.

  “Come on, piano player,” he said in a low hissing tone. “Come get a taste of Apolloni’s blade.”

  Hawke was unarmed and he had no choice but to start backing up as Apolloni advanced. Apolloni made one sweeping slice with his knife and Hawke skipped back out of the way. He didn’t skip back far enough, though, and the tip of the blade opened up a cut on his side.

  “Oh, Mason!” Rachel called out in concern.

  Although the cut wasn’t very deep, it looked bad because blood began flowing freely all along the length of the wound. Hawke’s undershirt turned red.

  “Oh, damn, that hurt, didn’t it?” Apolloni taunted.

  Hawke continued to back up while Apolloni pressed his advantage. Then, as he drew even with the fire hose alcove, Hawke reached in and grabbed the hose. Jerking it off the reel, he swung the nozzle toward Apolloni, hitting him in the chest. Caught unaware, Apolloni staggered back and Hawke leaped toward him, grabbing the knife hand.

  As the two men struggled for the knife, Rachel watched the drama unfold before her.

  Nobody said a word as the two men struggled in the dark. The only sounds were the sounds of heavy breathing, grunting, and the scraping of feet against the deck as they fought.

  Rachel saw Apolloni make a thrust down low, then she saw him smile and she almost screamed. But before she could make a sound, the smile left the assailant’s face to be replaced with a look of pain and surprise as Hawke stepped away from him.

  Apolloni turned toward Rachel and she saw the knife sticking out of his stomach. He started toward her and Hawke quickly stepped in between them. Apolloni took two more staggering steps, then he collapsed against Hawke. Hawke grabbed Apolloni by his belt and collar, then lifted him up to the top of the deck railing. He held him there for just a second before he dropped him over.

  Apolloni fell into the water with a splash, though the splash was almost lost in the churning beat of the stern wheel that turned behind them.

  “Oh, Mason, you are hurt!”

  “It’s not too bad,” Hawke assured her. “The cut isn’t deep.”

  Rachel went into his arms and he held her, feeling her quivering with fright.

  “Did you recognize him?” Hawke asked.

  “No. I saw him when he got on the boat, but I had never seen him before.”

  “He had to be working for Tangeleno,” Hawke said. “And you are right, this Mafia thing seems to go beyond New Orleans.”

  As the Delta Mist beat its way upriver, two giant mirrored lanterns, sitting on top of the pilot house, sent powerful beams stabbing out onto the darkness ahead of the boat. A third beam was being maneuvered by one of the crewmen and it moved from one side of the river to the other. Perhaps to investigate the splashing sound, the beam passed over to this side.

  Hawke pulled Rachel back out of the way so that they wouldn’t be picked up by the beam as it played upon the surface of the water. He saw it flit quickly across Apolloni’s body, now floating facedown and drifting toward the riverbank, away from the boat. Fortunately, the light operator did not seem to notice it. Without hesitation, the beam continued to work across the surface of the water, picking out floating logs and other river obstructions.

  Rachel shivered.

  “Are you cold?”

  “A little,” she said. “Mason, what am I going to do? I can’t hide from these people for the rest of my life.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  “What do you mean, I won’t have to? They were after me in Memphis, they came after me here on the boat. When is it going to stop?”

  “It will stop when I kill every son of a bitch they send after you,” Hawke promised.

  Rachel chuckled quietly. “You know, if anyone else told me that, I would pass it off as just talk. But I really believe you could do that.”

  “I not only can do it, I will do it,” Hawke promised. “Come along. I’ll see you to your cabin.”

  Chapter 25

  TANGELENO AND VIZZINI STEPPED DOWN FROM the train on to the platform at the Bellefont depot. With their bowler hats and three-piece suits, they stood out among the farmers and cowboys—and even the townspeople.

  To the casual observer, they looked like salesmen from the East, perhaps of spirits or ladies’ notions. No one could possibly believe that, between them, they could account for more than twenty killings.

  The two men waited until their suitcases were offloaded from the train, then, picking them up, walked out to the edge of the platform to examine the town.

  The first thing they noticed was the smell. The streets and roads of New Orleans were paved with brick and cobblestone, and they were swept clean every day so that the odor was kept down.

  Here, the dirt streets were covered with layer upon layer of horse droppings, which, over time, broke down into an emulsified muck. The result was a stench that was so strong it overpowered everything.

  “Holy shit,” Vizzini said, putting his hand to his nose. “What the hell is that smell?”

  “You called it,” Tangeleno said with a little chuckle. “It’s shit, all right, but I don’t know how holy it is.”

  Fighting the odor as best they could by breathing in short breaths, the two men crossed the street to check in to the Railroad Hotel. “I would like a room with a view of the depot,” Vizzini said.

  The clerk chuckled. “That won’t be hard,” he said. “Most folks want to get away from the depot because of the sound. And will you be sharing a room?”

  “Hell no. Put me in the back,” Tangeleno said.

  “Very good, sir.” The clerk took a key down from a board of hooks and keys. “You’re in Room 22,” he said to Vizzini. “Go upstairs, then come all the way back to the front. And you will be in Room 28. It is at the very back,” he said to Tangeleno.

  In his room Tangeleno took off his jacket, poured water into
the basin, and washed his face and hands. Although it did not look as if he was armed, removing his jacket revealed a rather unique shoulder holster that kept his pistol covered by his jacket.

  After washing his face and hands, Tangeleno combed his hair, then put his jacket on. Walking down to the end of the hall, he started to knock on Vizzini’s door to see if he wanted to go with him, but decided against it. He had spent the last several days with him on the train coming out. It would be good to be away from Vizzini for a while.

  Downstairs, Tangeleno stepped up to the desk.

  “Where is the closest place to get a drink?” he asked.

  “That would be the Brown Dirt Saloon,” the desk clerk replied. “Go out the front door, then across the street. It’s three buildings down to the right. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks.”

  When Tangeleno went out front, he saw that the hotel was right next door to Smalley’s Mercantile.

  Recognizing the name Smalley from the letters he and Vizzini had taken from the whore’s room, he decided to take a look inside.

  A sign in front of the store read:

  GOODS FOR ALL MANKIND.

  QUALITY HIGH. PRICES LOW.

  He went into the door and a young woman came to the front, answering the tinkling of the small door-activated bell.

  When Louise Smalley saw Joseph Tangeleno standing just inside the door of her store, she stopped and put her hand to her heart. She knew who he was, because she remembered him from her days at the House of the Evening Star.

  But what was he doing here? Had he come to expose her?

  Louise wasn’t worried about him exposing her to her husband. Eddie already knew about her past. But if Tangeleno let the rest of the town know about her, it could cause problems.

  Hesitantly, warily, she went up to him. She was very careful not to let him know that she had recognized him.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered. “I’m just new to your town and I am looking around,” Tangeleno said.