Wild Is the Night

by Colleen Quinn

  “A good shot, no matter who he is,” Damien said. “Looks like a hire to me.”

  “Huh,” Butch grunted thoughtfully. “I thought he looked familiar, too. Doesn’t matter, though.” Butch cocked the gun, then fired it senselessly into the bush where the pheasant had disappeared. The bird tumbled out, riddled with shot, useless for any purpose other than a killing.

  “Amanda Edison is a dead woman. Gun or no gun.”

  Amanda fell abruptly onto her bottom, but Luke tumbled out of the car to the hard, rocky ground. He swore, slammed his hat down upon his leg in disgust, then got painfully to his feet and turned back.

  “That’s it? A track that goes nowhere? You know something, lady, you’re some kind of a jinx!”

  “It has to go parallel to the main run.” Amanda reasoned. “This was obviously a supply car for the restaurant. If we keep walking, we’re bound to come to the town, and help.”

  Luke stared at her, even as she reached for her bag and the owl. Damned if she wasn’t right. It was unnerving and annoying at the same time, but he couldn’t help admiring her a little. Even now, as she trudged along the cut trail, looking more like a school marm than a writer of penny dreadfuls, she didn’t complain. Instead, he could almost hear her thinking, calculating their next move, and assessing their chances for success. She glanced back, gave him an impervious look that would have frozen the heart of a meeker man, then looked directly ahead.

  Silently cursing, Luke joined her. If she was right, they could be in town within the hour. It definitely wouldn’t be soon enough for him.

  Abilene was everything Amanda had ever heard about it, and then some. Short, squat buildings sprang up from the ground as if rooted, while the dusty roads were well-packed from the herds of Longhorn cattle that had been driven over them. Amanda followed Luke down Texas Street, blinking steadily at the influx of sight, sound and textures. Cowboys brawled outside the Applejack saloon, oblivious to the passersby who ignored the scene and went about their daily business. Women carried baskets beneath their arms and hurried about their shopping, pausing only to brush the dust from their hot, high-necked Victorian gowns. Businessmen speculated on everything from cattle to gold, rushing from the McCoy Hotel to the bar, where the real deals were consummated. Whores stood boldly on the steps outside the saloon, their white-tasseled boots a startling contrast to the dismal brown dirt that covered everything.

  Amanda choked, then rubbed at her glasses with her sleeve. She felt like a newborn baby just entering the world and absorbing everything that she could in the short time she’d been there. Breathing deeply of the acrid stench of the cow town, she reminded herself to put that in her journal; that peculiar aroma that was reminiscent of Aesop’s cage when she’d forgotten to clean it. And the sounds! She’d never written of the noise that nearly drowned her senses. The shouts of the cowboys. The lewd whistles of the street women. The soft clatter of the horses. And the enthusiastic screech of the train as it pulled into the station, followed by the harsh scrape of the gears against the track. “You coming?”

  Amanda glanced up, coloring when she realized Luke had been talking to her. She felt drunk on sensation and she quickly nodded, uncertain of what she was agreeing to.

  “There’s a ticket station across the street. You can book passage without any trouble if you still have your old stub. There’s a good restaurant if you’re hungry, and a bath house if you want to get cleaned up.” Luke gestured to an old frame building nestled beside a boardinghouse. “Well, I guess this is it.”

  She stood in the street, looking at him with that strange, intense stare that made him even more uneasy than it did earlier. He wondered if she realized how exotically pretty she was, even with her disheveled hair that she made no attempt to straighten, or her frumpy dress. Something about her aroused pity in him, an emotion that was foreign and not altogether welcome. He shrugged, and extended a hand to take her carpetbag.

  “Won’t hurt to have a bite to eat. Why don’t you straighten out your ticket and I’ll go get us some seats,” he said.

  Amanda exhaled in relief. She smiled and nodded shakily, unable to explain her own reaction. It really made no sense. She should be glad to be rid of him, to be back to civilization and away from outlaws and deserted restaurants. But she was grateful for the reprieve, for however long it lasted.

  The ticketman scrutinized her ink-splotched ticket, scraped away the bird droppings, then reluctantly stamped the wrinkled receipt and handed it back to Amanda with a curious glance. Giving the man an absent smile, she tucked the ticket back inside Aesop’s cage, and ignored the owl’s rustling. Returning to the restaurant across the street, she entered the establishment, completely unaware of the ticketman’s gaping stare.

  She saw Luke immediately and joined him at a sturdy wooden table. A surly waitress sauntered toward them, her gaze taking in the dangerous looking southerner and his odd companion. Amanda took a seat across from Luke, acutely aware of him as a man in this civilized setting. The night before came vividly back to her in detail. This man had touched her where no man had before, had undressed her, attempted to make love to her…and she had thrown up. Once again mortified by the memory, Amanda immediately delved into her carpetbag. Anything to take her mind off last night. She retrieved a pencil and a notebook, and began to furiously record her observations of Abilene.

  “Can I take your order, suh?” The woman shifted from one shoe to the other, her eyes never leaving Amanda.

  Luke nodded. “I’ll have the beefsteak, rare, potatoes, gravy, green beans, apple pie and coffee. Amanda?”

  She said nothing, but continued to write, oblivious to everything. Her pencil scratched across the paper and she made little sighs and squeaks as a particularly valuable note was duly recognized and recorded. Luke was reminded of a bloodhound, irresistably taken by a scent.

  “Amanda?” He asked again, louder this time.

  Amanda glanced up, then blushed as she became aware of the impatient waitress. “I’m sorry, did you want me?”

  “Your order,” Luke said, gritting his teeth. She was beginning to embarrass him. “You did want something to eat?”

  “Yes. I mean, I think so. Whatever you’re having.” Happy that she settled that dilemma, she went back to her work. Her hair tumbled down around her, effectively shielding her from the waitress’ disdainful glance, which unreasonably irritated Luke. “Oh, I am sorry.” Amanda glanced back up, shoving her glasses and pushing her hair out of her face.

  “Yes?” The waitress asked, rolling her eyes.

  “I also need a mouse. For Aesop. If you have one.”

  “A mouse.” The waitress repeated incredulously.

  Amanda nodded, then returned to her scribbling. The waitress glanced at Luke. He gave her a beatific smile.

  “Just add it to the bill. I’m sure you have more than one rodent around this place.”

  The waitress backed away, her eyes wide, while Luke chuckled. For the first time since he’d met her, he appreciated Amanda’s eccentricities.

  It was just too bad she’d never know it.

  The waitress returned with the food, unable to resist a glance at Amanda as she placed a brown parcel that was neatly wrapped with twine on the table. Unflinchingly, Amanda opened the bag, peered inside, then smiled, satisfied. She retied the wrappings, and placed the package inside the tin in her carpetbag.

  “A nice fat one. Aesop will be so happy,” she beamed.

  Luke choked, then indicated the food. He waited until the waitress left before softly chiding her. “Stop worrying about that damned owl and your work. Eat.” He indicated the steaming food.

  “I’m not worried,” Amanda said defensively, though she took his advice and put her papers aside. “I just wanted to make some notes. Did you know this town is called the wickedest town in the United States? It’s fascinating.”

  Luke swallowed his coffee and replaced the cup, staring at her in disbelief. “What’s so fascinating?”

  “A
ll of it,” Amanda said dreamily. “It’s so different from the east, and yet the same. On the surface, it seems so chaotic, but there is a marked civility. As Socrates said—”

  “Civil?” Luke laughed abruptly. “Abilene? Don’t kid yourself. This town has a reputation that it’s earned.”

  “I think it’s exaggerated,” Amanda insisted.

  “It’s a good thing you aren’t going to be here long.” Luke shook his head. “You’d be in for a rude awakening. Excuse me for a minute.” He stood up, reluctant to leave her, but she was already rereading her papers and scarcely heard him. He picked up his cup and went to the counter for a refill, leaving Amanda happily buried in her notes.

  Amanda finished everything on her plate. She was about to order seconds when she noticed a man at the next table staring. He wore a rich coat and a gaudy, embroidered vest beneath. His hair was black, brushed with some kind of grease, and his moustache was obviously waxed. He smiled, and Amanda, uncertain of what to do, returned his smile. Satisfied that he had caught her attention, he indicated the seat across from her.

  Amanda nodded, puzzled. Westerners were friendly, she’d read that. Perhaps the man was lonely. She slid over, making room for him, immediately repulsed by something in his manner and the way he stared at her. Yet, he aroused her curiosity. He was like no man she’d ever met before, and she wasn’t about to pass up the experience.

  The man took a seat beside her, his quick dark eyes skimming her dress, aware of the lovely figure it concealed. Dressed in a bright silk gown with a few ostrich feathers in her hair, she would bring him a hefty procurement fee from Jennie Rogers. The local madame had elegant and discriminating tastes, and this young woman would just suit the bill.

  “Glad to make your acquaintance, Miss. My name’s Shiler. Henry Shiler, to be precise.” He grinned, resembling a hissing copperhead, and extended a hand.

  “Please do. Be precise, that is,” Amanda said, accepting his hand, her eyes shining. The man would make a great villain for her next book. She took out her notebook and made detailed descriptions of his hair, clothes, and manner.

  “I didn’t catch your name.” He stared at her, his smile fading as she continued to write.

  “I didn’t tell you. This is wonderful.” Amanda looked up and gave him a brilliant smile. “I’m so glad you joined me.”

  “So am I.” He frowned when she finally put the notebook away and gave him a penetrating stare. Her eyes were unbelievable. Blue-green, swirling with golden flecks, like the ocean at dawn. Without those glasses, and with her hair done up, she would be the most requested girl in town. “I’d like to make you a business proposition.”

  “Oh, I don’t need any more money,” Amanda said quickly. “I have more than enough.”

  “You do?” The gambler took in her threadbare dress and tattered lace sleeves. He could swear her gown was splattered with ink. Deciding she was just being modest, he leaned closer with an understanding smile. “Honey, you can talk to me. I know what it’s like. You’ve obviously had some schooling, so you haven’t been poor for very long. But I can help you.”

  “The lady doesn’t need your help.”

  The gambler glanced up and saw Luke standing beside the table, his gun hand resting lightly outside the holster. Henry Shiler moved away from the table, showing that he had no intention of drawing. He didn’t like the look of the gunman, and even a deal for the woman wasn’t worth his life.

  “I was just making the lady’s acquaintance. I meant no harm, mister.”

  Amanda nodded in agreement. “He just wanted to offer me a job. Isn’t that kind?”

  “Really?” Luke glanced back at the gambler, who had turned a shade paler. “What kind of job would a gambler offer a lady? And an educated one at that?”

  “A gambler?” Amanda’s eyes lit up and she leaned across the table. “Are you really? What kind of game do you play? Do you cheat? What does a gambler make in a year? Do you count cards?”

  “What is this?” Henry got to his feet. “What are you, the law or something?”

  Luke clenched his teeth. “No, it’s just Amanda. I think you’d better get going. Unless you want your life duly recorded in the next penny novel.”

  The gambler stared at Amanda, who was glaring at Luke with barely concealed frustration. He took the gunman’s advice and removed himself, muttering under his breath.

  He was scarcely gone when Luke attacked. “What the hell’s the matter with you? You don’t invite a man like that to your table unless you’re willing to go along with what he has in mind. Didn’t you learn anything in that damned college you went to, other than quoting dead philosophers?”

  “I certainly did!” Amanda snapped, her eyes glittering with anger. “What right did you have to ask him to leave? I was just getting started. He was providing valuable research material.”

  “I’ll bet,” Luke snorted incredulously. “What kind of research? The kind you do on your back?”

  Amanda paled, looking stricken for a moment, and Luke immediately felt bad that he had hurt her. “Look, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant,” Amanda snapped, gathering up her bags. “And I think it just as well that we end this acquaintance. ‘Friends are as dangerous as enemies.’ Thomas De Quincy.” Amanda started for the door, her shoulders squared, even as she hefted her bag and the cage. Luke started after her, then on second thought, let her go.

  It would be just as well for both of them.

  The thought was barely formed when gunfire shattered the normal sounds of the cowtown and people screamed, scrambling for cover. Amanda stood frozen in the doorway that was now riddled with bullets, her numb fingers slowly opening, and Aesop’s cage tumbled to the ground.

  “Get down!” Luke dove at her, grabbing for his gun, even as another fusillade of shot poured from the street. Stunned, Amanda scrambled back inside the restaurant. Luke aimed his gun, but it was already too late. Whoever had fired was gone, the street deserted. Reholstering his weapon, he turned back to Amanda, helping her to her feet, then he cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him.

  “It’s you,” he said in wonder, rudely examining her lovely face for some kind of clue to this mystery. She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her. “Jesus Christ, it’s you they’re after!”

  Chapter

  4

  “No!” Amanda gasped, horrified at the thought. Yet even as she denied it, reality pushed its way into her consciousness. It was too much of a coincidence. The logical side of her mind overrode her emotions, telling her that, for some reason, someone wanted her dead. Her knees grew weak, and she swallowed hard, fighting to quell the dizziness that threatened to overcome her. She heard Luke shout for water, even as he helped her into a chair. Amanda was scarcely aware of the stunned murmurs of the restaurant’s customers, or knew that some of the men rose from their positions on the floor to stare out into the vacant street. Someone called for the sheriff, while the waitress brought the water.

  “Drink this.”

  Amanda tried to refuse, but Luke forced the glass to her lips, spilling the chilled liquid down her throat until she choked. She glared at him, then closed her eyes until the weakness passed.

  They were shooting to kill her. If it wasn’t for Luke, she would already be dead. Insulated for all of her life in a safe scholastic shell, Amanda felt like a newly hatched chick facing a world that was dangerous, even deadly.

  “Feel better?” Luke asked, ignoring her scowl.

  Amanda nodded her head and pulled the owl’s cage closer to her feet, as if accepting comfort from the close proximity of the barnyard bird. “Why?” Her voice was sharp, demanding an answer.

  “Damned if I know,” Luke said dryly. “But think about it. The Haskwells came back after successfully looting the train, risking capture. For them to show up here, and open fire as soon as they saw you…For some reason, Sam Haskwell wants you dead.”

  Amanda nodded, her shoulders sagging. Suddenly,
the idea of taking a trip was not nearly as appealing as it once was.

  “Well, little lady, looks like you’re lucky to be alive.” The portly sheriff left the crowd of people gathering at the entrance and made his way to Amanda. He barely glanced at the floor peppered with lead. “Sam Haskwell is nobody’s baby. You clearing out of here soon? I don’t need that kind of trouble.”

  “I…had planned to leave today. I was going to take the train.”

  “Forget that,” Luke interrupted. “It’ll be too easy for them to trace you, let alone kill you. We’ve seen that already. Your best bet at this point is to join up with a wagon train. You could take the Chisholm trail to Texas from here. Cost you about the same, too.”

  “Would be mighty surprised if they would want you,” the sheriff continued as he spat into a brass spittoon. “No one needs the attention of the Haskwells, and on a wagon train, it could be deadly. You’d be looking behind you for days.”

  Amanda glanced outside. The railroad platform looked conspicuously empty. The frontier families, who were so obvious an hour ago as they assembled and loaded up with supplies, were now gone.

  “My advice to you would be to head back east,” the sheriff said. “Whatever’s waiting for you in Texas will still be there a few months from now. Maybe by then the heat will die down.”

  “You mean she’ll take the trouble with her and you won’t have to deal with it.” Luke said. “The Haskwells would have no problem locating her there. She’d be a sitting duck.”

  The sheriff shrugged. “I’ve got two deputies; one can’t shoot and the other’s sick from licker. I have enough trouble trying to keep this town under control. And you want me to fight them?”

  “I think the lady gets your meaning,” Luke said in disgust.

  The sheriff nodded. “I wish I could be of more help, but I can’t. You’ll be out of town today?” Amanda nodded, her eyes stricken. “Good. I’ll consider this matter finished, then.” Pulling his hat down over his face, the sheriff walked out of the restaurant without looking back.