The Bounty Hunter

by Cheryl St. John

  Sheriff Harding pushed through the bat wing doors and made his way to the bar. A few heads turned at his arrival, but Randall had always come in of an evening, so a lawman was no surprise.

  Harding stopped beside Lily.

  “Sheriff, this is Thomas Finch, our new banjo player.”

  The sheriff and Thomas shook hands. “Heard you play last night,” Sheriff Harding told him. “You’re good.”

  “Thank you. My daddy taught me.”

  “Miss Lily, can I have a word with you?” the sheriff asked.

  Lily led him toward the hallway and used her key to let them inside her kitchen.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Judge Adams arrived on a late train.”

  Lily’s heart sank at the news.

  “He’ll be here for two days,” he said. “I have to present Brand to him.”

  Lily had hoped to hear from the governor first, but she was prepared for the worst. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “I understand the judge holds court early. Can you be at town hall first thing in the mornin’?”

  “I’m sure Brand will give the judge an earful. But I’m not offering anything. I’m not even going to accuse Brand of assaulting me.”

  “Shouldn’t you be there to defend yourself?”

  “Against what? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “You do have the man’s daughter, Lily.”

  “He’ll have to prove that, won’t he?”

  He stared at her as though trying to figure out what she was pulling. “Won’t that be easy enough?”

  The sheriff had been upstairs. He’d seen Violet. “I had hoped that you would help me,” she said. “But I guess you can’t compromise your job. Even for justice.”

  Their eyes met, and his were dark with an unknown reaction to her accusation. The silence of the kitchen was a contrast to the noisy dance hall next door. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he said nothing.

  “You do what you have to do, Sheriff, and I’ll do what I have to do.”

  “When Brand accuses you of hidin’ his daughter, Adams will come lookin’.”

  Lily shrugged. “My place is always open. I told the Intolerants the same thing. Come in, look around. Have a drink.”

  The sheriff studied her. The hazel green of his eyes was a color that seemed too bright for his dark countenance. His hair was black as midnight, and he was one of those men who grew a shadow of a beard by evening.

  “They say you were a bounty hunter before you came to Thunder Canyon.”

  “That’s so.”

  “What are you doing being a sheriff, then?”

  “Startin’ over.”

  His reply surprised her. “I have a healthy respect for that. A body should be able to start fresh.”

  The tinny sound of the piano changed. Isaac was playing “Pickles and Peppers.”

  “Got me a dandy banjo player, didn’t I?”

  “He’s got a real way,” Harding agreed. “I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

  “You probably will.”

  The sheriff slid back the bolt. “I’ll take my leave out this way. ’Night.”

  “’Night, Sheriff.”

  She bolted the door behind him.

  Lily didn’t like locking horns with the sheriff. She’d never broken any laws in running her business, and Randall Parson had never had reason to question her practices. The recent scrutiny of her dance hall had been brought on by the women in town, she knew that well enough. They were the ones pushing for their so-called morality, and she’d been trying to lie low.

  But she wasn’t going to let Violet go back to her father just to keep from ruffling a few feathers. Tomorrow would reveal where she stood.

  Lily wasn’t afraid for herself. Violet was the one who had the most to lose.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING Nate turned from pouring a cup of coffee at the stove on the side wall in his office as the door opened.

  A large man in a dark-brown suit entered the room, accompanied by a younger man who carried a satchel. Judge Adams had pure white hair, though his skin didn’t appear wrinkled or aged. His mustache was a shade grayer, and his eyebrows startlingly black. After he’d introduced himself and his assistant, Mr. Ulrich, he settled on a chair, leaving the other man standing near the door. “What cases do you have for me today?”

  Nate took a packet of papers from his desk drawer. “There’s a family waitin’ to adopt a niece. We can drive out to their ranch later.” He ticked off a few other cases waiting for the law, and then gestured to the holding cells. “And him. Name’s Brand. I brought him in for disturbin’ the peace and threatenin’ a saloon owner. Threw a whiskey bottle at the owner, too.”

  “Who was it? Bernie Kendrick? Someone’s always got a bone to pick with him.”

  “No, Your Honor, it was Lily Divine.”

  His black eyebrows shot up. “Lily? What happened?”

  “Jack Brand accused her of hidin’ his runaway daughter. Miss Divine denied it. People who were there at the time said Lily took him outdoors. After that, the reports of witnesses don’t agree. Big Saul claims Brand threw the bottle without cause. The women who were singin’ in the street at the time say she provoked him.”

  “Singing in the street, you say? Saloon girls? A theatrical troupe of some kind?”

  “No, Your Honor. The Women’s Temperance Prayer League is a bunch of wives who want to clean up the saloons. Get rid of gambling, whoring, the like.”

  Judge Adams rolled his eyes. “Lord protect us from righteous women.”

  “I locked up Miss Divine, too, but after the doc checked her out, I let her go. She wasn’t drunk like I first thought.”

  “I’ll have a talk with your prisoner. Bring him out here.”

  Nate picked up the keys and a pair of handcuffs and went back to open the cell door. “Judge wants to talk to you. Mind your manners.” He secured the handcuffs on Brand’s wrists behind his back and led him into the office.

  The judge listened to Jack Brand’s story.

  “So, you say Lily Divine has your daughter?”

  “Kidnapped her, she did.”

  “From where? Where did you last see her?”

  “At my place.”

  “So, Miss Lily came to your place and took your daughter away?”

  “No, it weren’t like that. Vi’let ran off and that harlot’s hidin’ her.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Ain’t it a fact she hides women from their menfolk? I heard at the Big Nugget that one of the whores left her job there to work for Lily, and Bernard can’t do anything about it. Women can work where they like, Sheriff Parson told ’im.”

  “What does that have to do with your daughter? How old is she?”

  “Fourteen. Plenty old enough to cook and take care o’ the place. She’s mine to marry off when I see fit, but nobody can steal her from me.”

  “So your daughter ran away?”

  “Damned if she didn’t.”

  The judge leaned back and the chair creaked beneath his weight. “Just what did she run away from?”

  “She don’t like to cook and clean. She’s lazy as they come. Lazy as her ma was.”

  “You claim Lily Divine is hiding her from you?”

  “She’s there. I know Vi’let’s there. Won’t have that harlot turnin’ my daughter into no whore.”

  “What’s your daughter look like?”

  Brand stopped talking and blinked. “What’dya mean?”

  “What does she look like? That’s a simple question.”

  “Brown hair. Kinda mousy lookin’. Hangs down her back. She’s skinny. Got freckles on her nose.”

  Judge Adams looked to Nate. “Sheriff, go to the Shady Lady and ask everyone to stand outside in the street. All the women and the barkeep, everyone.”

  Nate followed the judge’s directions, pounding on the door until Old Jess opened it. “Judge Adams wants everyone outside in the street. He’ll be here in a few
minutes.”

  Jess left the door ajar and hurried back in as though he wasn’t surprised at the request so early in the day. “Everyone out front!” he shouted. “Saul, go up and get the ladies. Bring ’em down.”

  Ten minutes later Nate led a cursing Jack Brand down Main Street behind Judge Adams, his assistant, and Mayor Gibbs. Nate noted movement behind a couple of windows, and one by one shop owners and trades-men came out to watch the proceedings.

  In front of the Shady Lady, four men and ten women stood in a crooked line. Nate noticed right off that the women were dressed for evening, rather than day, in bright satin dresses that showed arms, ankles and acres of cleavage. Their hair was dressed and adorned with pearls and feathers, and all of them were powdered, wearing lip rouge on their cheeks and kohl around their eyes.

  Judge Adams walked directly to a particularly colorful Lily. She had on a bright-red dress and a black feather in her hair. Strands of beads draped her neck.

  “Mornin’, Miss Lily.”

  She offered him a smile. “Judge Adams.”

  “You had a bit of a dispute at your place, I hear.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Mr. Brand here claims you’ve hidden his daughter. A young girl, skinny with brown hair. Name’s…what’s her name again?”

  “Vi’let,” Brand replied.

  “Violet,” the judge repeated. “We’ve come to take a look.”

  “Go right ahead, Judge. Will you have time for dinner today? Saul trapped ’possums and I stuffed them with sage dressing. It smells heavenly in the Shady Lady right about now.”

  Nate listened to the judge and Lily discuss a noon meal and scanned the faces of the townspeople who’d stepped off the boardwalks and crowded in to hear what the commotion was about.

  Meriel Reed and Blythe Shaw were straining their necks and giving the saloon girls harsh looks that would shrivel lesser women.

  Mayor Gibbs finally made an attempt to get back to the subject at hand. He turned to the prisoner. “You see your daughter here?”

  The judge moved away from Lily and came back to stand near Nate.

  Brand attempted to step forward. Nate held him in place. “That’s close enough.”

  Brand eyed the row of saloon girls sullenly. A couple of the women returned his stare, while others offered friendly smiles to the bystanders.

  Nate met Lily’s eyes and found her expression confident.

  “Do you see your girl?” Nate asked Brand.

  The man sneered at Nate. “No. She has her hid, I tole ya.”

  Nate let his gaze move from one woman to the next, just like the judge was doing at that moment. He recognized Mollie and Helena, the two women who’d come to the jail and insisted on a doctor for Lily. He made out a few of the others he’d seen dancing with customers and spotted a couple of females he’d never noticed before. One of those two had blond hair and generous breasts that spilled above her dress.

  The other had black hair, cut in a straight style below her ears with thick bangs across her forehead. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her lips were cherry red. Her waist was thick and her hips curved like an hourglass under the bright-green dress.

  Nate looked at her again, his suspicions fully realized. The “woman” with the black hair was Violet. The minute her identity registered, he shot his gaze to Lily.

  She wore that calm, almost self-satisfied expression he was learning meant trouble.

  Judge Adams turned to Brand. “I don’t see anyone fitting your description. Sheriff,” the judge ordered, “you and Mr. Ulrich go indoors and search every room.”

  “You stay put,” Nate told Brand before walking toward the dance hall.

  “You’ll need my key,” Lily told Nate, and dangled her brass ring out before him.

  Nate reached for the ring while their gazes clung. Her eyes were a more vivid blue because of the kohl outlining them. He couldn’t help looking at her lips, tinted a shiny red. And then his gaze quite naturally dropped to the front of her gown, where the curvaceous tops of her breasts were exposed to the sun. Skin, pale and soft looking, made his mouth go dry, and the valley between her breasts tugged a reluctant reaction in his groin. He took the keys and forced his gaze away from the woman.

  He and the judge’s assistant went through the saloon and store rooms. He used the key to open the house, and they methodically searched the kitchen, parlor, bath chamber, bedrooms, and every last nook and cranny.

  The room where Lily had taken him to see Violet looked just like every other bedroom. A bed, a bureau and lamp, a few dresses in the wardrobe. It could belong to anyone.

  Nate hadn’t been in that many family homes in his life, but his impression of the Shady Lady and Lily Divine took another gut punch. Cleanliness and order prevailed. Room by room, he discovered the place was outfitted and decorated for practicality and hominess. There was no red wallpaper anywhere. No clothing strewn about, no half-empty liquor bottles in any of the bedrooms, nothing that indicated its use in the sale of flesh.

  Lily had obviously staged the whole lineup of women, right down to their gaudy attire. The odd thing was how incongruous their appearance was with the interior of the place where they lived.

  She’d either taken the time to wipe the interior of the house clear of any indications that it housed prostitutes or it was decorated like no whorehouse he’d ever seen.

  Nate paused inside the largest of the bedrooms, knowing by the size, the amount and quality of furnishings, the adjoining sitting room…and the scent…that the space belonged to Lily.

  The furniture was ornately carved hickory, stained and polished to a sheen. The enormous headboard and footboard on the bed, worthy of a madam, would have seemed tawdry had they been combined with fringed brocades or bright silks, but the counterpane that covered her bed was a simple quilt, made from calicos and checks in shades of blue and white.

  A huge armoire topped with hatboxes stood against one wall, and Nate walked forward to open it. Someone could hide inside, he told himself. He knew he wasn’t going to find anyone, but curiosity drew him.

  The wooden rod held a strange assortment of prim shirtwaists and skirts on one end and bright dance hall costumes on the other. A shelf held feathered hats, ankle-high boots, satin shoes and a wooden jewelry chest. He recognized the fragrance that enveloped him as the one that defined Lily, though he’d never consciously acknowledged it before.

  “Anything?” Mr. Ulrich asked from the doorway.

  He closed the armoire. “Nothing.”

  Nate knew they weren’t going to find a girl, but the assistant had to return to the judge satisfied that no one was hiding in the house.

  They returned to the street, where the judge had moved from the glaring sun to a bench on the boardwalk. The mayor stood a few feet away.

  “No one in there,” Nate assured them.

  Mr. Ulrich concurred.

  “Are you satisfied, Mr. Brand?” Judge Adams asked.

  Brand sneered from where he stood in the sun in the dusty street. “I ain’t satisfied the whore didn’t hide her.”

  Lily’s chin raised a notch, but she kept her silence.

  “It’s apparent your daughter ran away,” Judge Adams said, getting to his feet. “If you truly want to find her, I suggest you seek elsewhere. You may not go near the Shady Lady Saloon again. In fact, Mr. Brand, I find you have no further business in Thunder Canyon. Do you have a horse?”

  “It’s at the livery,” Nate told him. “I’ll get his belongings and meet him there.”

  “Get your horse and leave town. If the sheriff sees you again, he will detain you until my return. You don’t want to see me again.” To Nate he added, “You may release him.”

  Nate unlocked the handcuffs, and Brand headed in the direction of the livery, grumbling and rubbing his wrists.

  “Keep an eye on him till he’s gone,” the judge said.

  “Would you like a drink with your dinner, Judge?” Lily asked, slipping her arm through
the crook of his and leading him toward the dance hall. “Our new banjo player could play something special for you. We’ll open early today in your honor. What do you say?”

  “I say, what are we waiting for? Sheriff, join us later. C’mon, Mayor.”

  Nate watched the gathering of colorfully dressed women and the few men make their way inside. The doors swung shut behind them. If Judge Adams had any idea of what had just happened, he obviously didn’t care. Nate was left with the question of whether or not the judge suspected Brand’s daughter had been among those women. He hurried to the jail to get Brand’s few possessions, including the coins he’d had in his pockets, then followed to give them to him and make sure he got his horse.

  There was some discrepancy over the amount Brand owed Wade Reed for stabling the black, but Brand grudgingly paid it and rode out of town.

  Back at the Shady Lady, the piano and banjo players were performing a lively tune, and the judge was watching as Mollie danced with Mr. Ulrich. The man’s cheeks were pink, and he held himself stiffly.

  Mayor Gibbs had settled down to a game of cards with Doc Umber, who’d shown up while Nate was gone. Two of the girls sat with them, and one lit the mayor’s cigar with a match.

  Beside the dance floor, Judge Adams clapped his hands and bounced one foot on the floor in time to the music.

  “You sure you don’t want to dance?” the woman with the accent asked him.

  “Oh, Helena, my knees wouldn’t last the day if I danced. And I still have to do some traveling. Show me a Polish dance.”

  “Not to this music.”

  “To something else, then.”

  “No, it makes me too sad.”

  Judge Adams looked to Nate. “Did you know Helena was an actress back in her country of Poland?”

  Nate shook his head.

  “Back east, too, isn’t that right?” the judge asked.

  She nodded. “A long time ago.”

  “How did you come to be here?” Nate asked.

  The pretty woman looked at him. “I trusted a man,” she said. “He was involved with bringing opium into the country, and he made it look as though I was the one. It took all my savings and more to defend myself. I lost everything and ended up working for Antoinette Powell, the woman who once owned the bordello next door.”