by Dale Graham
CHAPTER THREE
Unexpected Arrival
‘That guy is becoming a thorn in our side, Cody,’ the owner of the Crystal Chandelier Theatre remarked, sidling up to his business colleague. Perry Blaine was a suave well-dressed dude considering himself debonair and stylish as behove a true showman. The waxed moustache twitched. ‘What are we going to do about him? I was hoping that Browny Jagus would provide the answer.’
Meek scoffed at his partner’s apparent naïvety. ‘That clown couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. What we need is a real gunslinger to finish the job.’
‘He’s only one man,’ retorted Blaine scornfully. ‘Surely we don’t need to pay out big bucks to pack away one hick starpacker into his coffin.’
‘That guy ain’t no ordinary tinstar,’ Meek iterated with some degree of inverted respect. A heavy-lidded gaze followed the lawman across the street. ‘He’s already cleared up boom towns in Colorado before joining Wild Bill in Abilene. The guy has eyes in the back of his head. How else d’you reckon he’s survived for so long? Jagus found that out too late. And not only that. Bonner has solid back-up in the form of the mayor and Doc Bailey, plus others who don’t relish a wide-open town.’
‘Damned turncoats!’ his colleague railed, adding his own mercenary reasons for getting rid of the town tamer. ‘They sure as hell like the dough all these wild cowpokes bring in. But they can’t take the hard graft guys like me and you put in to line their pockets. Critters like that make my skin crawl. Look over yonder.’ Blaine aimed a finger to the burgeoning spread of Delano on the far side of the Arkansas River. ‘Six months ago that dump was nought but a trading post. Now there’s a couple of saloons plus a hen house, and more being erected as we speak. That trade should be over here.’
Delano was outside the jurisdiction of a town marshal, free country, and therefore not subject to the restrictions imposed by Cal Bonner. The saloons were open twenty-four hours a day, and guns were constantly being loosed off. The rising line of bluffs behind the row of hurriedly erected shacks made the unkempt amalgam totally unsuitable for expansion, although it was ideal for the rip-roaring antics of well-heeled drovers while the boom lasted.
Wichita on the other hand had prospered on the opposite side of the river. In addition to unlimited prairie grassland for the town to develop, herds brought up the trail from Texas did not have to brave the swirling waters of the Arkansas. In the rainy season, the river could become a raging torrent. So a bridge had been erected for people and horses to cross, but that was all. Perhaps now the railroad had arrived a more permanent structure would be built.
Meek nodded glumly. ‘You’re right, Perry. More and more of these drovers are heading across the river. It’s bad for business. Something has to be done. And soon.’
‘I reckon that I might have the answer to our problem,’ Blaine declared in a secretive manner. A be-ringed hand caressed his smooth chin.
The saloon boss threw a hopeful glance at his associate. Anything to halt the vice-like grip Cal Bonner was throwing around their lucrative enterprises was worth listening to. ‘You gonna fill me in then?’
‘Better leave it until later. I need to meet the stage,’ Blaine replied, setting his hat straight and adjusting his necktie.
His partner gave the comment a puzzled frown. ‘What’s wrong with now?’
‘Remember that gal I was telling you about, the one I met in Kansas City?’
‘You mean Tilly Dumont, the singer?’
Blaine nodded. ‘Well I’ve booked her in for a couple of weeks at the Chandelier. And she comes complete with a troupe of dancing girls as well. They’re following later today on a wagon along with their costumes and props.’ This eye-opening revelation was complemented by a sleazy leer. ‘I’m sure you’ll find one of them compliant enough to satisfy even your lurid appetite.’
‘What in blue blazes do you mean by that?’ The saloon owner’s angular features visibly coloured while he protested forcefully. But Blaine was already making his way across the street.
The stagecoach was surrounded by a host of eager spectators. Its arrival always caused the same pandemonium. Apart from cowpunchers and cattle buyers, Wichita received few other visitors. Any stranger was avidly questioned before being allowed to go about his business. The only female passengers were usually those seeking work in the saloons or other more earthy places of entertainment.
‘Any trouble, Cannonball?’ the Butterfield agent asked the crusty old timer sitting on the bench seat up front.
‘Nary a thing except for a few wandering Kiowas who gave us the once over,’ replied the hardy stage driver. ‘Young Butcher here scared ’em off when they took sight of the scatter gun he was toting.’ He then passed down a leather satchel of mail while Yoke Butcher saw to the disembarkation of the passengers.
The first person to step down was a small bustling dude in a natty check suit. Harlem Mordecay briskly called for order to allow his protégé to alight.
And that was when a collective gasp from the assembled gathering called a halt to the babbling. The lady in question was dressed in a stylish manner that was clearly not that of the soiled dove variety. The neat hat complete with flamboyant ostrich plume sat atop a coiffure of elegant russet curls. With nonchalant aplomb, she accepted the hand of young Butcher while stepping down onto the boardwalk. The elegance of her posture caused men’s eyes to pop, their tongues to hang out. This dame was definitely no common saloon moll.
‘Make way if you please, gentlemen, to allow the lady some room,’ warbled Mordecay ineffectually, trying to make a passage for his charge. ‘We can’t have an international singing star being jostled by riff-raff.’
The insult was lost as the multitude of excited onlookers fought to lay their peepers on the mysterious celebrity. That was when Perry Blaine chose to step forward.
‘Pardon me, Mr Mordecay.’ The rich baritone timbre drowned out the chaperone’s shrill squawk as the theatre owner took control by raising his hands. A silence quickly ensued. ‘Folks, may I present Miss Tilly Dumont, sensational star of the stage. Tilly has generously given her time to entertain us here in Wichita. And I’m sure you will all make her welcome. Tickets are on sale from midday.’
A roar went up from the crowd. Blaine raised a hand for silence as he took hold of the lady’s hand. ‘And one more thing. Miss Dumont has kindly agreed to be my wife.’ Another resounding shout of approval greeted this surprise announcement. A wedding meant free drinks and plenty of grub.
The alleged prospective bride was less than impressed. This was no less a shock for her as well. A sweeping eyebrow lifted in astonishment. Her mouth fell open. The acerbic look aimed at the gushing impresario was less than endearing, as was the hissed rejoinder that contained more venom than a sidewinder’s bite. ‘All I said was that I’d think about it. That’s the third time you’ve asked, Perry. Now give it a rest. You’ll have an answer in my own good time.’
Blaine’s smile remained pasted onto his sanguine features. He was nothing if not persistent. But like an irritating itch, to the lady in question such pushiness could rapidly become irksome. ‘You can’t blame a guy for trying, Tilly. And I’ll keep on until you give me the right answer.’ He was about to usher the singer inside the Crystal Chandelier when Cal Bonner stepped forward.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce me, Perry?’ the marshal asked, doffing his hat. ‘It isn’t everyday that a lowly town marshal gets to meet such a grand celebrity.’
Blaine huffed, then with some degree of reservation did the honours.
Cal’s head bowed curtly. But the icy gleam in his eyes failed to match the welcoming smile. Seeing his estranged wife arriving in Wichita after all this time was a startling revelation that had momentarily left him bereft of any kind of response. Then to hear she was romantically involved with the theatre owner had struck him like a sock to the jaw.
The couple had married while Cal was working the Colorado gold mining camp of Crested Butte. That had been fi
ve years before. His new bride had hoped that once the rough and ready berg was tamed, Cal would hang up his guns and settle down to a more prosaic way of life that was infinitely safer. Too many women have naïvely thought the same thing where their men folk were concerned. But a leopard never changes its spots.
What she hadn’t counted on was the fact that a dull life tending store, or maybe growing crops on a farm, was anathema to Bear River Cal. He had been well and truly bitten by the adrenalin-pumping bug of excitement that maintaining the law offered. Settling down to a humdrum life was not for him. Other boom towns had followed until one day, Adele Bonner – as she was then called – had walked out.
When Cal returned home after running down a bunch of claim jumpers, a note was waiting for him on the kitchen table of their home in Bonanza. The ‘Dear John’ missive gave no indication as to where she had gone. All efforts to track her down led to dead ends. His wife clearly had no wish to be found.
At the time, Cal had been devastated. But time as the saying proclaims is the great healer. Yet here she now was in Wichita. In the intervening years Adele Bonner had clearly done very well for herself. And judging by the overtures being made by Perry Blaine, their own marriage meant nothing to her.
The theatre owner’s breezy introduction went over the marshal’s head. ‘You did say the name was Tilly Dumont?’ he asked with barely concealed disdain.
‘A stage name, Marshal,’ the woman breathed out in a low voice after eyeballing her husband. With great difficulty, she somehow managed to maintain a cool front. Tilly did not appear to have been caught off guard by the unexpected meeting in the same way as her husband. It was almost as if she had expected the encounter. That said, his sudden appearance after all these years still left her flummoxed. Swallowing down her bewilderment, Tilly eventually recovered her poise. ‘A girl has to have some privacy. It seems like I’ve heard about a tough lawman by the name of Bonner who once lived in Bonanza. That wouldn’t happen to be you would it, Marshal?’
‘A man has to earn a living, ma’am,’ her estranged husband replied flatly. ‘Maybe if people understood that upholding the law is vital for everybody’s safety and well-being, they might have more respect for those who choose to wear the badge of office.’ He tapped his chest meaningfully.
‘And perhaps those same men might have the tact to pay more attention to the feelings of those who support them.’
‘It doesn’t always end up that way, does it Miss . . . Dumont?’
Blaine was becoming edgy. He didn’t cotton to the marshal commandeering the attention of his future intended. The hidden agenda being batted back and forth went over his head. ‘Time you were settling in, Tilly,’ he snapped out acidly. ‘I’m sure it’s been a tiring ride from Abilene. You understand, don’t you Marshal?’ He took the woman’s arm to lead her away.
Tilly shook him off; penetrating eyes were still fixed onto the stolid badge-toter. ‘From what I’ve heard, most lawman have very little appreciation of how a woman’s mind works. The job, it appears, surpasses everything else. Even those they claim to hold dear.’ Tilly turned away to hide her evident distress. Setting eyes on the man she had once loved had resurrected emotions she had long thought dead and buried. ‘I am sure that Marshal Bonner is no different from all the others of his kind.’
Moments later she was gone.
Adele Bonner was now a very different woman from the one Cal had married all those years ago. She had even changed her name and profession. It was a mighty leap up the social ladder. From a humble school teacher, she had attained the dizzy heights as a grandiose singing sensation held in adulation by the masses.
He on the other hand was but little changed. Perhaps it would be as well if they made the final break. A divorce seemed the only viable option. Then they could both move on. But did he really want such a terminal ending?
Cal wandered away. His mind was in a total quandary. There was much to think on. The crowd dispersed, totally unaware of the poignant exchange between the two people. But there was one person who clearly suspected that all was not as it appeared on the surface.
Candy Flowers was standing on the veranda above the crowd. From her elevated position she had witnessed the tears in the celebrity’s eyes, the pain and heartache that the meeting had caused. The fixed smile on the singer’s face was a sham. A formulaic greeting expressly for the masses. But Candy was not fooled. Only a woman could have picked up on the inner torment emanating from another.
It was obvious to the croupier that these two people had a shared past. And it was patently one of the heart. Although what exactly that entailed was not as yet clear.
Candy was determined, however, to find out.
If this woman had designs on her man, she would fight tooth and nail to foil any liaison. No matter what the outcome. She might be a modest girl hailing from the wrong side of the tracks, but Candy Flowers had her pride. Nobody was going to get the better of her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hell Hath No Fury . . .
With conflicting thoughts of his alienated wife occupying every waking moment, Cal forgot to book tickets for the forthcoming performance at the Crystal Chandelier. As such, by the time he was reminded of the promised liaison by Candy, every seat had been taken. Such was Tilly Dumont’s renown that her entire booking had been a sell-out within hours of the ticket office opening.
It was accordingly a thoroughly downbeat Cal Bonner who had to relay the unfortunate tidings to his lady friend. She received the news with lukewarm indifference. Yet inside she was seething. Candy was well aware that her beau’s mind had been elsewhere in recent days. And now she knew the reason why.
‘I sure am sorry about that, Candy. But I’ll make it up to you,’ bleated the abashed lawman after breaking the unwholesome news. ‘Perhaps we can go to the Palace Hotel for a meal tonight. They serve the best grub in town, all high class stuff prepared by a French chef.’ Cal twiddled with his hat hopefully. ‘So what do you say? Is it a date?’
But Candy was having none of it. ‘It most certainly is not, Marshal.’ Her narrow shoulders lifted. An imperious cock of the head indicated her derision for the tardy offer. ‘I’m working tonight, and will be for the foreseeable future as far as you’re concerned.’ And with that cutting remark, she stamped off wiggling her ample hips.
No man was going to make her a laughing stock. Perhaps in a day or two, she would forgive him. After all, Cal Bonner was a good catch. Tall, handsome and daring, he was all that a single girl could wish for in a man. Her nose twitched. But he needed to see that Candy Flowers was no pushover.
She knew he was watching as she crossed over Kingman. But the girl maintained a straight course without turning round before entering the Prairie Dog where she had risen to the prestigious position of chief croupier.
Cal slunk away. Being tossed aside by two women in a week was bad for his reputation.
When he returned to the jailhouse to reluctantly finish off some paperwork, Cal was surprised to see an envelope had been pushed under the door. He frowned, wondering what it could contain. Only one way to find out. A shock awaited him. Inside was a ticket to the opening performance of the Showcase Extravaganza featuring legendary songbird Tilly Dumont.
Cal was dumbfounded. But the ticket was only for one seat. Who could have sent it? Only two people had access to those extra tickets reserved for special guests. And he was darned certain Perry Blaine would not desire his presence at the Chandelier. His heart fluttered at the notion that perhaps there was a chance for him after all.
Was this his opportunity to show Adele that he had changed? The old two-fisted sharp-shooting Cal Bonner had matured. Perhaps he could even be persuaded to adopt a more commonplace lifestyle. But would that now be enough for a famous stage celebrity?
He quickly hurried back to his lodging house to remove his best suit from the closet where it had hung ignored for too long. It was a mite creased and dusty. Marge Gillett would be able to tidy it up once she learned w
hat had happened. The widow was a romantic at heart and would have all kinds of advice to bestow. All of which would float over Cal’s head. He knew exactly what he had to do if’n he was to win back the hand of his only true love.
‘You must be going somewhere special tonight, Cal,’ the kindly woman enquired, setting his dinner on the table. ‘May I say how handsome you look. And a close shave no less as well. That Candy Flowers is a lucky girl.’
‘Me and Candy ain’t exactly on speaking terms at the moment.’
‘That’s a shame. I thought you two were getting on so well,’ Marge sighed, pouring out a cup of coffee to go with the chicken casserole. ‘It sure ain’t my business to pry, but if’n you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener. And discreet too.’
‘Guess we just weren’t meant for each other.’
Cal had no wish to reveal his true intentions and hopes for the future. Things may or may not work out between him and Adele. But he intended to give it his best shot. And if’n that smarmy chiseller, Perry Blaine objected, he knew what to expect. Cal’s fists gripped the knife and fork tighter. Marge Gillett left him alone to eat his meal. She could see that no revelations were to be divulged over the dining table.
Cal was in his seat when the band struck up at seven o’clock precisely. They played a couple of lively tunes before the dancing girls came on to a rowdy collection of hoots and lewd comments. It was all part of the fun. He was surprised to find himself in the more privileged part of the theatre rather than the main auditorium containing the cheap seats. Those in this raised gallery were able to relax in comfortable padded chairs. Even the floor was carpeted.
More exclusive still were the closed-off boxes in which the town dignitaries and their wives were ensconced. He could see the mayor and Doc Bailey sitting together on one side. Switching his gaze to the far side invoked a twisted frown on seeing the preening face of Cody Meek and one of his hostesses.
