The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set

by Robert Vaughan

  “Bye now, Mr. Dimke, you come back, you hear. You’re welcome anytime,” she called toward the man who was coming down the stairs. Dimke didn’t turn back toward her, but he replied to her call lifting his hand and throwing a wave over his shoulder.

  Lola closed the door to her room then started down the stairs. She was half-way down when she saw Luke.

  “Luke Slater!” she called down to him. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Luke said.

  Lola hurried down to see him, and accepting a coin from him, went to the bar to get a drink for herself before she came to join him at the table.

  “So, you came to see me, did you?” she asked with a flirtatious smile. “I thought you and your brothers had left town, but you couldn’t stay away, huh? Well, finish your drink and we can go upstairs. I’ve got a little time available.”

  “I want to go upstairs with you,” Luke said. “But it won’t be to dip my dobber.”

  “Oh? Well, you know that if we go upstairs together, you’ll pay for my time whether we do anything or not.”

  “I know, but I’ve got something to tell you, and I don’t want anybody to hear what I have to say.”

  “All right,” Lola said setting her drink on the table. “Let’s go up now.”“Lola, me ‘n my two brothers has come into a saloon, ‘n it’s a damn fine one, too,” Luke said once they were in Lola’s room.

  “A saloon? How’d you come up with a saloon?”

  “Let’s just say we won it in a poker game. It’s over in Buffalo City, only now the folks is callin’ it Dodge City, on account of the town’s so close to Fort Dodge.”

  “I know where that is. It’s over in Ford County, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Luke said. “But right now, we’ve got a problem. This place we got . . . well it’s not like the Pig Lot.”

  “What do you mean? If it’s a saloon, it serves liquor doesn’t it?”

  “It does, but it’s got a place where you can get a bite to eat, too.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Lola asked.

  “Well, Mack thinks we could make more money if we put in a wheel and a faro table, and then built some rooms behind it,” Luke said. “And, Lola, that’s where you come in. We want you to come over there ‘n work for us.”

  “Good heavens, Luke, you don’t think I can handle all your customers by myself do you? I’d be on my back twenty-four hours a day.”

  “No, no, that’s what’s good about it. We want you to go to Wichita ‘n get some more girls, as many as you can find. They’s already another place in town that’s got a lot of whores, ‘n that’s Fat Tom Sherman’s dance hall. That’s where the buffalo hunters ‘n the soldiers go when they want ‘em a woman. But I want ‘em to start comin’ to the Red House.”

  “The Red House?”

  “That’s the name of the saloon.”

  “No,” Lola said when she saw the Red House for the first time. She shook her head. “I can’t work in the Red House.”

  “What? If you don’t, how are we goin’ to get any whores to come in here? You said you’d work for us.”

  “You’re going to have to change the name, and the way this place looks.”

  “All right, what about Slater’s Saloon?” Luke asked.

  “Why not call it Jones’ Store?”

  “What?” Luke replied, confused by the response. “That don’t make no sense.”

  “Neither does calling it Slater’s Saloon. You’ll need a name that as soon as people hear it, they’ll know right away what to expect. And you’re going to have to change the way it looks.”

  “Why? I think it looks fine, the way it’s all painted up red ‘n all.”

  “Let me think about it for a while,” Lola said. “I’ll come up with something.”

  “That’s why I went all the way to Caldwell to get you,” Luke said.

  “And one more thing. I intend to be in charge of all the girls,” Lola said. “I don’t intend to work the customers anymore.”

  “All right,” Luke said. “No, wait I’ll have to get Mack to go along with that, but I’m sure he’ll do it.”

  “Why do you have to get Mack’s permission? You’re the oldest, aren’t you?” Lola asked.

  “It’s because everybody knows Mack’s the smartest.”

  Lola laughed. “All right, get his permission.”

  The next morning, Lola took the stage to Wichita to solicit some girls to work for her. She was pleased that Mack Slater had agreed to allow her to manage the women, even though the lion’s share of the money they would earn would go into the coffers of the saloon. She was also pleased that she would not be working on the line. It had been ten years since she left Missouri, where she had seen her ma and pa killed by raiders. She didn’t know what had happened to her four brothers, but she assumed they had been killed in the war.

  She would always be thankful to Brewster Arnett, for taking her to Kansas City, but when a horse kicked the old man in the head, and knocked him senseless, she was left to make her own way in the world. Mr. Arnett had been kind to her, and she had no idea what a man would do to a woman. But she soon learned, and when she found out men would pay her to lay with them, she made the decision to become a “lady of the evening”.

  What unkind words those were. She was not a “lady” and she never would be. She was a whore, and nothing more.

  When she got to Wichita she watched as the women came and went from the saloons and brothels. Those that were dressed in the finest clothing she didn’t approach, but when she saw someone who was dressed shabbily, she knew she had a potential hire.

  Many worked from cribs—one room shacks that barely had room for a bed. The girls who worked out of these had to solicit their business, and they often sat in chairs in front of a window actively peddling their bodies. Lola had a certain empathy for these women. It was in just such a situation that she had started out.

  Lola walked down the alley where the cribs were located. She felt like she was in a grocery store picking out the best apples in the bin. Some women were unkempt, with overly made up faces. Those she passed on. At last she felt she had her selection. Mack had said he wanted ten girls, but she only chose six.

  When she approached one crib, the door swung open.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” a young woman asked. “If you’re from the law, I paid my fine, and if you’re from the Temperance League, just go away.”

  “I’m neither of those,” Lola said. “I’ve come up from Dodge City to recruit girls to come work for me. I can promise you better money and a clean environment. Would you like to come?”

  The woman smiled, and then she opened her door a little wider.

  “Yes, I would, ma’am, but there’s only one thing. You see that baby lying on the bed. She comes with me.”

  “A baby. I don’t know about that,” Lola said.

  “Well, she’s not really a baby, but she’s my baby sister. That’s her. She’s fifteen years old.”

  “Does she work on the line?”

  “Absolutely not. I would never let Cetti do that.”

  “Then why is she here?”

  “Our ma died back a month or so, and we ain’t found a place for Cetti to work yet, so she lives with me. When I’m busy, she spends her time in the woodshed out back.”

  “That’s no place for a fifteen-year-old girl. If some john saw her, why . . . who knows what would happen to her.”

  “Then can she come with me?”

  “Yes, by the way, what’s your name?”

  “I go by Frankie. Frankie Jones, but my real name’s Fannie Marcelli.”

  “All right, Frankie it is, and I’m Lola Fontaine. Do you think you and Cetti can be ready to go tomorrow morning?”

  “I can, but there’s one thing, Miss Fontaine. If I go, you have to promise me you won’t let Cetti . . . you know.”

  “I think we can find something for her to do,” Lola said.

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p; “Thank you, thank you,” Frankie said as she embraced Lola. “We’ll be ready as early as you want us to be.”

  “All right, you two be down in front of the livery tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. I hired a couple of buckboards to take us to Dodge City.”

  It took them three days to make the trip from Wichita, and during that time the women who had been competitors used the time to become friends. Cetti became a particular favorite of all the others, and they swore they would do whatever they could to keep her off the line.

  11

  The track laying was only a week or two behind the grading team, and was due to reach Dodge City in September. Cade, Bat, Ed, and Theo having completed their task, were now back in Dodge City. Here, they were greeted by a smiling Raymond Ritter.

  “Outstanding job men, the superintendent told me the last five miles have been some of the best they’ve had to work with. They finished the last five miles in record time.”

  “That’s good,” Cade said.

  “Now, what about our money?” Bat asked.

  “Oh, yes, your money. Here you go, gentlemen.” Bat rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation. Ritter gave each of them a single, twenty-dollar bill.

  “Here, what the hell is this?” Theo asked. “I thought we were supposed to get three hundred dollars.”

  “You are, you are. But you don’t expect me to have that much money on my person, do you? This twenty dollars is just to hold you over ‘til I can get to Atchison and get your pay from the boss.”

  “How soon will that be?” Ed asked. “Twenty dollars won’t even get us into a high stakes card game, let alone have money left over buy us a new pair of pants.”

  “I promise you, it won’t be long.”

  “Ritter, we broke our backs out there grading, digging, and sweating,” Bat Masterson said. “Speaking for myself, I’m going to be very upset if you don’t come through with this money. I’m going to give you two weeks, and if you don’t get back, well then, I’m going to hunt you down.”

  “I told you, you’ll get your money,” Ritter insisted. He climbed into a buggy and drove away.

  “Come on,” Ed said, “Let’s go get a beer.”

  “Hey, will you look at that,” Bat said.

  He pointed to what had been the Red House Saloon. It was now renamed the Devil’s Den. It was still painted red, but the false front now sported a paint job of yellow flames, leaping up from the red.

  From inside they heard a woman’s scream, though it was followed immediately by laughter.

  “Come on, let’s check it out,” Ed suggested.

  “No, wait,” Bat said. He looked at Cade with an expression of concern on his face. “How do you feel about it, Cade?”

  “How do you expect me to feel? Is asshole strong enough?”

  “What I meant is do you want to come with us?”

  Cade had initially intended to pass the saloon by, but he was interested to see what was going on.

  “I guess it won’t hurt to have a beer,” he said.

  A dense cloud of tobacco smoke hovered just under the ceiling. The saloon was crowded with loud and boisterous men, and at least half-a-dozen very scantily clad women moved through the crowd. There were three bartenders, and they were being kept busy.

  Cade had to admit that he had never before seen the Red House doing this much business. But then, he reminded himself, this was no longer the Red House. This was the Devil’s Den.

  Cade and the other three stepped up to the bar. “What’ll it be, gents?” the bartender asked.

  “Where’s Pete?” Cade asked.

  “Pete?”

  “Pete Cahill. The regular bartender.”

  “Oh, him. Well, he ain’t regular no more. When Mr. Slater took over the saloon all the ones that was workin’ here for Willis quit. Now, what’ll it be? I ain’t got time to stand here jaw-bonin’ like this.”

  All four ordered beer, and even before the mugs were set before them, they heard loud, angry words coming from the floor.

  “You son of a bitch!” The angry shout was followed by the sound of shots, and gunsmoke curled in with the tobacco smoke, adding its own acrid scent to the prevailing aroma.

  “You kilt ‘im,” another voice said.

  “Damn right, I kilt the cheatin’ son of a bitch. Look up his sleeve. I seen ‘im put a ace up there.”

  “There ain’t nothin’ up his sleeve, Dekus,” one of the card players said. “He warn’t cheatin’ you.”

  “Well, I thought I seen ‘im put a ace up his sleeve.”

  “That’s a hell of a note, to kill someone just ‘cause you thought he was cheatin’.”

  “Yeah? Well, it’s been done, ‘n there ain’ nothin’ we can do about it now, is there?” the shooter said. He looked around the saloon. Is there anyone in here who wants to make somethin’ out of this here shootin’? ‘Cause if there is, do it now.”

  The shooter was holding his pistol in his hand, a small wisp of smoke still curling up from the barrel.

  “Ain’t nobody got nothin’ to say about it,” another said. “You done what you thought you had to do.”

  “Then somebody drag his body out front so’s Collar can take care of it,” someone else said. “Dead bodies in a saloon ain’t good for business.”

  Cade recognized the voice of the last speaker, and looking toward it, he saw Luke Slater. He thought about challenging him for taking the saloon, but he was pretty sure that, under the circumstances, his challenge would not reverse Jeter’s misfortune. Also, at this point, any challenge as to the valid ownership of the saloon would more than likely end up with one of them being killed.

  As he thought more about it, though, the prospect of one or both of them getting killed had little meaning for him. He would just as soon kill Slater as not. And he didn’t care what happened to him.

  A few minutes later Dooley Coulter stepped up to the bar beside Cade.

  “Hello, Cade,” Coulter said.

  “Dooley,” Cade replied tipping his hat.

  “Ain’t seen you around in a while.”

  “I’ve been working,” Cade replied.

  “I reckon you heard what happened to Jeter,” Coulter said. “Hell, you can see what happened, ‘cause all you got to do is take a look around this place.”

  “It’s not the bar Jeter ran. I can’t see him giving it up without a fight.”“They say Jeter didn’ have no choice but to go along with it,” Coulter replied. “From what I hear, the Slaters had his family ‘n was goin’ to commence a’ killin’ ‘em if Jeter didn’t sign over the saloon to ‘em. ‘N so that’s what he done. I reckon that just anyone of us would’ve done the same thing.”

  Cade didn’t reply. If Magnolia and the girls were threatened, Jeter would have had no choice. He couldn’t have waited for a court of law to decide the proper ownership of the Red House.

  “Cade, did you really bet the saloon on a card game?” Coulter asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cade said. “I . . . I must have. Jeter has the IOU. I’ve seen it, and it has my writing. But . . .

  “Was you drunk?”

  Cade was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I was drunk.”

  “Well, then, you most likely done it.”

  “Yes.” There was a world of self-condemnation in Cade’s single-word, clipped response.

  “It’s too bad to see a good man like Jeter down and out,” Coulter said.

  “What’s he doing for a living, now?” Cade asked.

  Coulter shook his head. “Nothin’ much. Sometimes he picks up a dollar or so doin’ odd jobs, but he ain’t found nothin’ regular.”

  If Cade had not felt the guilt of his actions before he certainly felt it now. Coulter patted him on the shoulder and walked away and no one approached him at the bar.

  Cade looked around for Bat and the others, and saw that they were at the back of the saloon playing the Wheel of Fortune which, like the girls, was a new addition to the saloon.


  Cade took his beer to a small table that was out of the way and sat down. He decided right then, that he would somehow, some way, make it up to Jeter. It may not be by getting this saloon back, but he would not let Jeter be reduced to a rag picker.

  “Would you like some company, Mr. McCall?”

  The woman who asked the question was quite pretty, but there was something slightly different about her and it took him a moment to realize what it was. Though she was dressed attractively, her clothes and face paint were not openly provocative as was the other women in the Devil’s Den.

  “I don’t think anyone else will be joining me,” he said, as he kicked the chair back with his foot.

  “I’m Lola Fontaine.”

  Cade nodded his head in her directions as he took a drink. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “No, we’ve met before,” Lola said.

  Cade laughed. “You could tell me anything and I wouldn’t remember it. I seemed to have done a lot of stuff that I don’t remember.”

  “I was working in Caldwell at the Pig Lot Saloon and you were . . . ,” Lola said.

  “Drinking and fighting and spending some time in jail.” Cade finished her sentence. “What brought you here?”

  “Mack Slater. He hired me to manage the young ladies. If you see any of them that you think you would be interested in, let me know and I’ll make the arrangements for you.”

  “What if I wanted you?”

  Lola smiled. “You wouldn’t get me. I don’t do that anymore.”

  “Then what would it cost me if I just want you to sit here and keep me company?”

  “Buy me a drink,” Lola said.

  Cade withdrew a coin and handed it to her. “Bring me another one, too.”

  Cade was half-way through his second beer when Luke Slater came over to the table.

  “You can’t be wastin’ all your time on one customer,” he said to Lola. “Especially not this one.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. McCall,” Lola said with a pleasant smile as she stood. “When you come back, perhaps we can visit again.”

  Cade nodded.