The concerned father seemed to have lost his appetite. ‘You can’t imagine how hard it was, Mr Valeron. It is paramount to selling your children into bondage. But there was no future for my children in London. There is little work and we would have starved. My father had a little money invested for his final years but barely kept a place for himself. I had learned a trade but could not find a job that would support my family. When my wife died, I knew I must find a new life.’
‘If Gaskell turned down your offer to purchase the contracts of your kids, what makes you think he will have a change of heart now?’
‘I brought more money this time, and I opened an account at Wells Fargo. I can write a pay voucher if this cost more than I have with me.’
‘Thirty-two dollars each, plus a few bucks for transportation,’ Wyatt recalled the contract amount. ‘I would think the man would be satisfied with a hundred bucks for the pair.’
‘It’s why I wanted someone here I could trust. I have read stories about the west, about the outlaws and bandits, the wild savages and crooked barristers. I can’t risk not getting my children safely back into my care.’
‘A barrister?’ Wyatt asked.
‘Yes . . . you probably are more familiar with the terms lawyer or attorney.’
‘We’ve got more than our share of those.’
‘Anyway, I intend to open a shop for men’s suits. I was an apprentice tailor back in London, but there was little to no hope of ever rising higher in the company. We were practically starving on the pittance I earned. I hope to enjoy enough prosperity so my children can finish attending school and find a good life for themselves.’
Wyatt raised a fork of food, then froze. Two men wearing badges were staring through the window of the eating house… and they were looking straight at them.
‘Who did you ask about where to find me?’
‘A man at the stage depot.’
‘It would seem news travels fast in this burg.’
‘Father!’ a girl squealed. ‘Father!’
Wyatt turned his head and saw an adolescent girl weaving her way between tables. She was carrying what appeared to be a drying cloth for dishes in one hand. Pixie-like, she was slender, with her hair pulled back displaying attractive features, and likely in her early teens.
‘Shelly!’ Mackavoy cried, rising to his feet with welcoming arms.
She dashed over to him and threw her arms around his neck.
‘You came for us!’ she sobbed. ‘You really did!’
‘I promised you I would,’ Mackavoy managed the words through his constricted throat. ‘I came as soon as I got enough money to pay for you and Gary’s contracts.’
Shelly stepped back, practically radiant with joy, but her delight dampened at once. ‘I don’t know, Father. No one has been allowed to leave since we arrived. The people in charge are very strict. There are a good many beatings and Gary told me he had seen a man killed – he works nights cleaning the saloon. We only see each other for a few minutes a day. I have to work here from six in the morning until closing at nine, while he works all night long every day.’
Before Mackavoy could respond to his daughter, the pair that had been watching them from the walk entered the room and marched over to their table. Both were tough-looking sorts wearing guns. Their badges had the word Enforcer stamped on them. The one had a cigarette hanging from his lips. He glared down at them.
‘Get back to work, little scab!’ he growled at Shelly. ‘You ain’t supposed to be talking to the customers.’
‘Excuse me,’ Mackavoy said politely. ‘This is my daughter. I’ve come to pay for her release.’
The enforcer grabbed the lapels of his jacket and crammed him down in the chair he had been using. Then he pointed at the girl and snarled a second time. ‘You! Get back to work!’
‘Now see here, my good man. . . .’
But Wyatt put a restraining hand on Mackavoy. He forced a mellow expression to his face and confronted the two men.
‘You’ll have to pardon us, gentlemen,’ he said without a hint of challenge in his delivery. ‘We just arrived in Paradise and aren’t familiar with your rules.’
Shelly hurried back across the room and disappeared into the kitchen.
‘If you’ve business here, you both have to check in with the director of security. That’s the building that houses the Paradise jail.’
‘We didn’t know this was different than any ordinary town,’ Wyatt replied. ‘I apologize for the confusion.’
‘The gent here sounds right agreeable, don’t he, Olmstead?’ the second man spoke up for the first time. With a smirk he added, ‘Maybe they just ain’t very smart.’
‘You could be right, Coop,’ the one with the smoke sneered the words. ‘Can either of you daisy-pickers read?’
Wyatt displayed a smile, although he had lowered his right hand beneath the table. Always cautious, his gun was tied down, but the riding thong was not in place. If it came to a fight, he would not be taken by surprise.
‘It was our mistake, boys,’ he said easily. ‘I should have asked around about visiting one of your workers. As for my friend here, he only arrived a few minutes ago. We’ll sure check in with your head of security and do this properly.’
Olmstead removed his half-smoked cigarette and belligerently stuck it in the middle of Mackavoy’s plate of food.
Before the man could react, Wyatt again put his left hand on his employer’s shoulder for restraint. He then rose slowly to his feet.
‘If you’re here to insist we visit the security director, you only have to say so. If, on the other hand, you’re here to start a fight, we’d as soon pass. My friend here only wishes to speak to Ward Gaskell. We aren’t looking for any trouble.’
‘The way we do things,’ Olmstead jeered, ‘you don’t speak to no one until the director says you can. If he sees fit, he’ll let you talk to Judge Sayles. If they both clear you, then you can talk to Mr Gaskell.’
‘Suits us fine.’ Wyatt remained respectful. ‘Do you mind if we finish eating first?’
‘I think we’ll take you to jail. I don’t like your . . .’ Coop started to draw his gun.
Wyatt’s hand was a blur. He instantly covered both men before Coop could get his gun clear of its holster or finish his sentence!
‘Easy, boys,’ Wyatt told them in a soothing tone of voice. ‘I told you, we didn’t come looking for trouble . . . but no one pulls a gun on me. Let your iron slide back where it belongs.’
If Coop had been chewing tobacco, he’d have swallowed it, along with the lump of fear that went down his throat.
Meanwhile, Olmstead carefully spread out his hands. ‘No need to get riled, fella,’ he said, the contempt no longer in his expression or voice. ‘We’re just doing our jobs.’
‘You said we should visit the director, so that’s what we’ll do,’ Wyatt said, slipping his gun back to its cradle. ‘My question was, can we finish our meal first or do you prefer we go there straight away?’
Olmstead took a backward step. ‘Go right ahead with your meal, mister. I reckon the director can wait.’
‘Obliged to you for the invite,’ Wyatt said, smiling at the two men. ‘Feel free to join us if you’d like.’
Both men gave their heads a negative shake. Then, like two wooden figures, they marched out of the eatery.
‘By Jove!’ Mackavoy exclaimed, as soon as the pair had left the room. ‘Where did your firearm come from? It appeared as if by magic!’ He did not hide his amazement. ‘You must be the fastest man alive at getting your weapon clear of its sheath.’
‘I’ve done a little practice,’ Wyatt told him.
‘But . . . but we could have ended up in one of those disreputable gunfights, the kind I’ve seen on a great many book covers in the stores back east.’
‘They aren’t as exciting as you might think. Getting shot or killing someone should always be a last resort.’
‘With your proficiency, I doubt you worry about another
man’s speed.’
‘No amount of speed will help when someone shoots you from behind,’ Wyatt informed him. ‘That’s why we will first try and talk things out. Are you about finished?’
‘Yes, of course. I wish to get our dealing tended to and get my children out of here as soon as possible.’
‘It’s getting late, but let’s go visit this director and see what he has to say.’
Chapter Two
Cliff arrived to see Jared’s horse at the hitching post in front of the house. That was unusual: Jared almost always put his horse away before supper.
Probably heading off to Valeron for some fun and games after supper, Cliff decided. It caused him to sigh. It had been weeks since he had enjoyed any recreation in town. Being a father was a full-time job, added to the full-time job he already had on the ranch. Taking in Nessy had seemed the right thing to do – and he loved her as much as if she was his real daughter – but it sure cut into a man’s night life.
Rather than put away his horse, he tied the mare off next to Jared’s mount. He would tend to the horse after the meal.
As he entered the house, Wanetta looked in his direction. ‘Use the washroom upstairs. Nessy is using the other one.’
Cliff shrugged at her suggestion, wondering if Nessy had reached a point of modesty or something. After all, he had been helping to bathe and wash her hair since bringing her home almost two years ago.
‘Hey, Cliff,’ Jared greeted, passing him on the stairs. ‘How’s it going?’
Cliff opened his mouth to reply, but Jared went on by. Curiously, he had not only washed up for supper, he had put on a clean shirt. That was likely due to the night out he had planned, but it wasn’t his cleanliness that set off an alarm in his head – it was the crooked smile on his face.
Tish happened to be putting the finishing touch on tidying up Nessy’s upstairs room. She saw Cliff arrive and stuck out her hand.
‘Payment please,’ she said. ‘Two days of watching Nessy.’
‘Six-bits a day; you and Darcy are killing me,’ he complained, digging out a dollar and a half.
‘Maybe you ought to hire someone to look after your child,’ Tish said, her face a mask of innocence. ‘Be a whole lot cheaper than paying me and my sister to tend her.’
‘I can believe that. It seems like I’ve been working for you two ever since I brought her home.’
Tish took the money and laughed. Not so much a humorous mirth, more that she, like Jared, also knew something special. She didn’t offer to share the information, mincing down the stairs. She called goodbye to Wanetta and Jared as she went out the door.
By now, Cliff was growing apprehensive. He could think of no reason why Jared and Tish would be in such bang-up moods at the very same time. And what about the funny looks? It was as if they knew a joke . . . and it was about to be played on him!
Cliff washed up and went to his room, the bedroom next to Nessy’s. The main Valeron home was huge, having once housed six kids. Jared had the third bedroom upstairs, but he was gone a good deal of the time. Cliff and Nessy had moved in once he formally adopted her. It was nice that she had a room to herself, and she was right next door if she had a bad dream or needed him. At present, the only vacant bedroom was Wendy’s – downstairs and on the opposite side of the house from Locke and Wanetta’s. Wendy had moved into town to run an accounting office and oversee several of the Valeron owned businesses.
Cliff heard Nessy’s voice as he started back down the stairs. She was chattering away to someone. He might have thought it was Tish, but he had heard the door close when she left. Wanetta was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the evening meal. Plus, he had looked after Jared and saw him go into the dining room. Unless Locke had returned early from his trip to Cheyenne. . . . But no, he would have seen the buggy parked next to the house.
‘So who are you yakking to like an excited magpie, little princess?’ he muttered aloud.
Cliff stopped near the bottom step, foot still in the air, when a young lady walked into the room – with Nessy leading her by the hand!
‘Oh!’ Nessy cried at seeing him. ‘Daddy! Daddy! Look who’s here!’
Cliff’s head rotated back and forth without his conscious effort to move. ‘Uh, I give up, pumpkin. Who is here?’
‘My nanny!’ she cried happily. ‘Just like the one Tish read about in the storybook. Only she’s way nicer.’
‘Nanny?’ he practically choked on the word. ‘Did you say nanny?’
‘Isn’t she great! She knows all about the stories we’ve read. She even had the very same second year reader as me when she attended school.’
‘Nanny?’ Cliff repeated, the title seeming to be cragfast between his eardrums and his brain.
‘Cute idea having Nessy place the ad in the newspaper,’ Jared taunted him. ‘She did a much better job than you’d have done.’
‘Nanny?’ he mumbled again, still utterly confounded.
‘It will be a blessing,’ Wanetta joined in, entering the dining room with a kettle of stew. She smiled as she set the pot in the middle of the table. ‘Mikki will move into Wendy’s old room and be here for Nessy night and day.’ She added: ‘Except on Sundays, or when she needs a day or two off.’
‘But who?’ Cliff swallowed against his incredulity. ‘I mean, how did. . . ?’ He reached up to press a hand to his brow. ‘Nessy! Did you really place an advertisement in the paper?’
‘Aunt Desiree helped,’ Nessy admitted. Then she clarified to Mikki. ‘Though she isn’t really my aunt. She is married to Uncle Brett, but he isn’t really my uncle either. I just call him that. Kind of like calling Jerry my uncle, or Grandpa Locke my grandpa. They aren’t really. . . .’
‘That’s all right, dear,’ Wanetta stopped Nessy’s babbling. ‘We can explain all that after supper. The rolls are getting cold and so will the stew.’ Then she sat down and looked to Cliff. ‘As you are the last one to take your place, it falls to you to say Grace.’
‘Yes, Aunt Wanetta.’ Cliff remained thunderstruck, yet respectful, as he took his place next to Nessy. With everyone seated at the table, he gradually recovered from the shock of the situation. Clearing his throat, he managed a smile.
‘Looks like I’ve got a little more to be thankful for tonight.’
Ward Gaskell was a businessman. He had a shrewd mind and could smell a nickel fifteen feet away. After the war, he had left his father’s hardware business back in Missouri, a man driven to succeed. From an aide to a railroad tycoon to managing a governor’s failed run for office, Ward had learned how to deal with men of all ranks. Buying a mine and striking it rich was a mere stepping-stone. He had come up with an idea of using a type of slave labor to increase profits. With more money at his disposal, it had allowed him to lend financial support to men in high positions, which, in turn, allowed him to earn even more.
He had been deciding how much the company would clear over the past month when Parker Sayles entered his office. The man looked worried, but then he always had a nervous look on his face. An ex-lawyer who left his business after he sued an innocent man into bankruptcy, Paradise had been a good place to hide from friends and relatives of the victim.
‘Your enforcers got a little overeager again, Ward. I’ve warned you before that we need to keep them on a tighter leash.’
‘Who did they beat up this time?’
He scowled his disdain. ‘It’s worse than that. They made fools of themselves, and a number of people witnessed it.’
‘Talk,’ Gaskell ordered.
Parker related what had happened when the two enforcers pushed the wrong man at the café. He ended with, ‘And now they look the dummies they are! That fast-draw artist sent them crawling away with their tails tucked between their legs.’
‘Who was the guy they braced?’
‘Only got a first name of Wyatt.’
‘Well, it sure ain’t Wyatt Earp. After all the killings at Tombstone, he went to San Francisco, chasing after some
skirt. He’s no longer a threat.’
‘No, this guy doesn’t have a big mustache either.’ He sighed. ‘But he was with Clevis Mackavoy, the fellow who sent us the request to purchase his children’s contracts.’
‘We need every single body we have, Parker. The prisons are empty and we’re not getting as many new people on contracts. Not to mention, other business owners around the county have caught on to the scheme, and the shortage of people signing contracts for sea passage has caused the price to keep going up.’
‘I know the situation, Ward. But the Mackavoy kids are both youngsters – thirteen and fifteen. How much good can they be? The boy won’t be old or big enough to work in the mines till the end of his contract. As for the girl, she will soon be the object of too many men’s attention. In another year or two we’ll have fights breaking out over her.’
‘It’s the idea of the thing,’ Gaskell said. ‘We let a couple kids go and others will start thinking they can contact relatives or someone else about paying off their contracts. We don’t need a minuscule profit on a contract or two, we need more able workers.’
‘We can hire some if need be. There are a lot of miners looking for work.’
‘Not twelve-hour shifts, six days a week, for a dollar or two a day,’ he reminded Parker.
‘We could cut back a little, maybe give the hired miners ten-hour days.’
‘You know the problems the new men would bring with them. Miners’ unions are popping up all over the country. We don’t want a bunch of them coming in here and organizing our workers. How would we handle a strike? Send the prisoners back to prison and horsewhip the contracted workers?’
He snorted his contempt. ‘We can’t allow anyone to dictate terms to us.’
‘Olmstead said he’d never seen anyone get a gun into play as quick as this guy. Do we want to buck someone like that over the custody of a couple kids?’
‘Have Decker look him over and check his reputation. If he’s a nobody, we can make an example out of him.’
Parker rubbed his hands together nervously. ‘Seven deaths in the past two months, Ward. If the governor gets wind of the loss of life and hears of the number of beatings, he might try to shut us down.’
Valerons--Beyond the Law! Page 2