“Not so loud,” Billy cautioned him with a raised hand. “If we’re caught with those, remember you have permission to provide a few hunting rifles to the Pawnee, and the other friendlies.”
“We must keep up appearances. You meeting them at the usual place?” He smiled with satisfaction at the younger man. Yes sir, Billy Reno was just like himself–sly, clever. The perfect choice for his daughter’s hand.
“Yep. And then later, the Dog Soldiers come get the rest. You know, Manning, we might not have been having all this trouble with the tribes if you had really fulfilled those government food contracts you had for them.”
Manning snorted with glee. “The flour the tribes didn’t get, I can sell for double or triple because the outbreak keeps supples low in Denver. Then I turn around and sell guns to the Injuns, who are on the war path because they didn’t get the supplies. Clever, huh?”
“Clever, Manning. No wonder you’re rich.”
Manning felt his stomach rumble. “You hungry?”
“You wanta go to Lily’s place?”
“She’ll at least have a steak for me and maybe corn pone and fried green tomatoes. Damned doctors!”
He stood up and immediately the younger man hurried to take his arm. “Let me help you out to the carriage.”
Manning leaned on his cane. He seemed to be having more trouble with his gait these days. If everyone who knew him only realized . . . “You want to go with me?”
“Naw, you know Lily and I don’t like each other! I only put up with her because she’s your woman.”
“She isn’t so bad, Billy. I wish you two could learn to get along without arguing.”
“I’ll try a little harder, boss, just because you want me to, but you know I only go in her place when I have to check on the receipts, and see how business is going.”
They went out to the carriage, Manning hobbling feebily.
Billy patted his arm as he helped him in the carriage. “I respect you, Manning. You’re smart as a whip and you know how to make money.”
“And I’m gonna teach you.” He nodded with satisfaction as he leaned in the carriage. “You’re my good right arm, Bill. You’ll be rewarded for this.”
“Your friendship and a job with you are reward enough,” the younger man said, “but being your son-in-law is a dream come true. Suppose she wants to choose her own husband?”
“Winnifred has used up what little I didn’t get of her mother’s. The war made the plantation pretty worthless, you know. I’m sure that’s the only reason she’s consented to come out here; she has no money and, therefore, not much choice. She’ll do as I tell her. Keep me up on details.”
“Sure!” Billy slammed the door. The younger man was cut out of the same pattern he was, Manning thought with smug satisfaction as the carriage pulled away.
The carriage stopped in front of the Gilded Lily, one of the finest establishments on Holladay Street, that busy street of saloons and bordellos just off the main street of Laramer. Before it had been built, the site had been occupied by another elegant place called the Duchess’ Palace. But that had burned down. Manning smiled, remembering the Palace’s owner. She had been pretty and dark, too. Manning liked his women with dusky skin.
He was ushered through a discreet side door into the elegant red velvet interior. Lily was waiting for him in her rooms, a sultry, mature beauty of almost forty, dressed as always, in scarlet. He’d found her years ago on a business trip to New Orleans.
“Hello, sweet, I was wondering if you’d come tonight,” her voice purred, soft and Southern.
“I come when I feel good, Lil, which ain’t often these days.” It was a liability to love a woman–bad business. He’d liked it better when he’d just used them and tossed them aside. Manning regretted now that he’d probably signed Lily’s death warrant, too. But he didn’t regret it enough that he’d have denied himself her body if it were all to do over again.
“And I always look forward to it, sweet.” She brushed her lips across his cheek. “Let me get you a drink.”
“Do better than that. Tell the cook I want a steak and a pan full of greasy fried potatoes, real crusty and brown, with corn pone.” He looked up at her wistfully. “I don’t suppose it’s time yet for green tomatoes?”
“Knowing how you like them, I had the cook hunt some down.” She smiled triumphantly and patted his shoulder. “I’ll go tell her to rustle something up.”
She went out and he leaned back in a red velvet chair with a sigh. Dark-skinned women. If he had one weakness, it was sultry, dusky-skinned women. There’d been a hundred, no, more like a thousand in all these years, but he and Lily Thibodeaux had been a pair longer than he usually kept a woman. He’d found her working as a whore, brought her here, and bought this place for her to run. Lily was a beautiful mixture of Seminole Indian and French Cajun.
How was he going to keep Winnifred from finding out about Lily? He’d have to be more discreet. But then Winnifred didn’t know. At least in this stage, the doctor said he wasn’t very contagious, so the chances he’d give the disease to his own daughter were slight.
His only daughter. No, that wasn’t quite right. Actually, somewhere there was another, but it would only be borrowing trouble to track her down, although it wouldn’t be that hard. Over the years, he’d heard mother and child were drifting around the West, looking for him. He didn’t need that pair, so why bother? Winnifred and Billy were going to look after him. Yes, he had it all worked out. He sipped his drink, listening to the music floating up the stairs.
“Oh, Genevieve, sweet Genevieve, the days may come, the days may go, but still. . . .”
There had been many women in his life–dark, passionate women. So many, he’d lost count of them. He thought about it now. Funny, only one virgin in the bunch, a special girl, but pure Injun, so he didn’t take her seriously.
Women. His mind ran through the many faces, wondering which one had given him this deadly surprise. Not the Cheyenne girl. No, she was a virgin. It was one of those who came later.
Lily came back in. “Food’ll be here in a minute.” She paused, looking at her fingernails a little too casually. “Heard when she’s coming in?”
“God damn it to hell! Don’t mention my daughter, you hear? I intend to keep her from ever finding out about you. As far as she’s concerned, I’m a respectable widower-Denver’s most respectable citizen.”
“I won’t get to meet her? It hurts that you’re ashamed of me, you hypocrite.”
“Lily, I’m warning you–”
“All right.” She went to the window, stood staring out. “I reckon you think you can keep hiding me forever then. Denver ain’t that big a place.”
He glared at her. “She’s hardly likely to come into a whorehouse, now is she? Why an innocent, high-class girl like Winnifred would be shocked–”
“Would she be shocked to know her daddy owns it?” She whirled around. “Along with half the other sin spots in this town?”
“That’s enough!” He stood up, raising his cane threateningly. “Don’t push me, Lily. Just because I’m fond of you doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate uppityness ! No wonder Billy doesn’t like–”
“Don’t mention that young bastard’s name to me!”
“Now Lily, I wish you two would get along. It would make things so much easier. He’s probably going to end up as my son-in-law.”
She laughed, pulling the red filmy thing around her. “I feel sorry for your poor daughter then! If she knew that, she probably wouldn’t come. I wouldn’t sleep with that snaggle-tooth bastard to be able to inherit all your money!”
“Billy would be handsome if it weren’t for those two bottom teeth. I’m going to send him back East and see what they can do to fix them. If he weren’t all man, he wouldn’t have been in so many fist fights, and gotten them knocked out.”
“He’s just a lowdown saloon brawler!”
“He’s my right hand and I depend on him, so you might as well get used to the
idea he’ll be around a long time!”
“I wish you would keep him out of my place,” she pouted. “He’s always wanting to take my best girls to bed.”
Manning laughed. “Like I said, he’s a lot like I was in my younger days. At least he’s probably the one man in town who doesn’t want you! Is that what’s bothering you, Lily? Billy’s the only man in town who doesn’t lust after Manning Starrett’s mistress?”
She came over and slipped her arms around his neck. “I love you, Manning. Don’t let’s argue. You know I never look at anyone else; I know when I got a good thing going.”
“And don’t you ever forget it! Get me another drink and let’s eat.”
The food was good and he ate with gusto. Being from the South herself, she understood his tastes. It had been a smart move to take her out of that bordello in New Orleans and bring her here, let her run this place for him.
Once his belly was full, Manning settled back in his chair, sipping the bourbon she poured him. “You look good to me tonight, Lily. It’s been weeks since the last time.”
“You sure you’re up to it? I worry about your health, sweet, maybe we’d better not–”
“God damn it to hell! I like women who do what they’re told. Y’all are only good for one thing-besides naggin’ a man to death.”
She bit her lip, then began to strip slowly. When she stood naked, she turned around slowly for his inspection.
He liked to see her naked, although it was hard for him to service her anymore. Sometimes it was so frustrating to see her long dark legs, her fine dusky belly and breasts, and not be able to cover her as expertly as he once had, that he lost his temper and beat her bare buttocks with his cane. That was almost as satisfying-to watch her cringe and cry while he put red marks on that rounded bottom.
He watched her parade up and down, posing for him as if she were a slave on an auction block and he was trying to decide whether to bid on her or not. It was a game he liked to play. Lily was a beautiful woman. He motioned her to come over to him so he could feel her breasts and stroke her dusky thighs.
“Manning, I wish you wouldn’t humiliate me like this.”
He laughed. “What are you talking about, Lily? When I found you in that dive in New Orleans, it was the kind of place a man could buy anything–for a price. I took you out of there. You should be grateful to me.”
“I am, Manning. You know how much I care about you.”
“Then do all those things that only you know how to do,” he said softly, reaching for the buttons on his pants.
“Here, let me do that, sweet.” Immediately, she was on her knees, naked between his legs while she unbuttoned his pants and shirt. “What do you want to play tonight?”
He took the pins from her hair then watched it fall around her naked shoulders. “I’m in a good mood,” he said expansively, watching her dark skin catch the lamplight. “Let’s play slave and master.”
She hesitated as if to argue, then seemed to decide it was useless. She went to the wardrobe, and took out chains and a small whip. “At least it’s better than the cane.”
“Put on some of the tokens, too.”
She reached in a drawer, took out several strings of small brass tokens with a lily on them, draped them around her waist and wrists, and strung a necklace of them around her neck so that they hung down on her full breasts.
“Now parade on the auction block like a slave girl on the docks at New Orleans. Make me want to buy you.”
He leaned on his cane, watching her walk up and down, posing for him. It was one of the games he liked best because he felt powerful when she posed naked before him, her wrists and slim ankles draped with chains, the brass tokens strung around her neck and slender waist.
Manning motioned for her to come over and let him feel her expertly, as he had done so often at slave auctions in the past, before the war ruined everything. He and some of the others used to frequent the auctions whether they intended to buy or not. It was a perfect excuse to handle dark, naked girls. Manning stroked Lily’s breasts, her dusky thighs. “You’ve been a bad girl, Lily. You know what happens to bad slave girls?” He reached for the whip.
Finally Manning tired of the game and had Lily call for his carriage. He went back to his ornate, empty Victorian mansion, took his mercury capsule, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Dark women. He couldn’t get enough of them. Only one of them had been a virgin. That Cheyenne girl he found eighteen or twenty years ago during an army hitch. There’d been many, black and brown, in the time since. One of them had given him this deadly gift, which he took home to his ugly, cold wife who kept the plantation running and looked after their child. Winnifred had been a beauty, inheriting his looks instead of her mother’s.
He wondered disinterestedly whatever became of the Indian beauty and the little girl she had produced. What difference did it make? With a legitimate daughter, he didn’t need the Injun one. Now if he could just get Winnifred out of that damned fort and over here to Denver to marry his trusted protégé, Billy, Manning would have someone to look after him if he finally went insane. He didn’t want to end up in a horrible asylum like the one he’d put Clara in.
He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Lily with her warm, wet mouth and fine breasts. Lily, who knew how to please a man. The only fly in the ointment was that she and Billy couldn’t stand each other. Maybe things would eventually get better between them. At least he didn’t have to worry about Lily cheating on him. He didn’t think she would, but if it ever crossed her mind, she’d know better, knowing Billy would report back to his employer at once.
Billy. The young man was just like him. And he was loyal. That made Manning rest a little better. He yawned and drifted off to sleep.
Lily Thibodeaux poured herself a gin and sank down on the settee, wincing because of the welts across her hips. Damn that bastard! She’d never hated a man as much as she hated Manning Starrett. She’d kill him if she could get away with it. It made her skin creep for his hands to touch her. How much longer would she have to submit to his sexual pleasures? Not much longer, her lover said. When everything was right, they’d finally be together. Until then, she’d have to pretend to be the loving mistress.
Mistress. Lily laughed and pulled her silk dressing gown closer around herself. Most of the time Manning couldn’t perform anymore, which suited her fine.
She heard a slight rap at the door. Her heart beat hard with anticipation. “Who is it?”
“You know who it is,” whispered the Yankee twang.
“I thought you wouldn’t come tonight.” Lily ran to the door, unlocked it, and flung it open.
They went into each other’s arms and he came in, closing the door behind him. “I had to come when I was sure he’d left. I get sick, thinking of that old bastard pawing you. I’d kill him if I could get away with it!”
“Let’s not waste this precious time talking about the richest, stupidest man in Denver!” She looked up at him, straightening the diamond stick pin in his tie. He’d be so handsome-once he got his lower teeth fixed. “Sweet, make love to me.”
His hands slipped inside her scarlet silk gown. “Does he suspect anything?”
“No, Billy,” she whispered as she kissed him, “not at all!”
Chapter Twelve
He came into her arms and Lily kissed him again. Billy was a good lover, not perverted like Manning. He swung her up in his arms and whirled her about. “I get tired of all this sneaking around.”
“I do, too,” she sighed, “but we can’t just let all this money get past us, Bill. He looks so sick, I keep thinking he’ll die and then maybe we’ll get it–”
“I doubt anyone ever died of arthritis.”
“I suppose not,” she admitted.
But later after they had made love and Billy was asleep, she lay looking at the ceiling, wondering privately if that was all that was really wrong with Manning. Could she have given him the disease? She wouldn’t care if she had. Of course, she he
rself was cured. Lily remembered when she had first had all the symptoms, several years back–sores on her genitals, followed by a red rash.
She’d gone to an old granny herb doctor and been given a potion that was guaranteed to kill the disease. All the symptoms had gone away, so the herbs had evidently worked. Some of the girls who worked here thought it wasn’t curable. Fat lot they knew! Not wanting to scare anyone, Lily kept it all a secret.
Lily wondered idly if she had infected Manning. Maybe he hadn’t recognized the signs and hadn’t had treatment. She smiled, thinking about Manning dying. It would serve the scoundrel right! But where had she gotten it? Had her lover given it to her? Lily hoped she lived to dance on Manning Starrett’s grave or see him locked away in a mad house.
It was quiet now. The piano had finally stopped playing; most of the girls had sent away the last customers. She and her love could sleep tonight without fear of discovery. But the next time . . .
Later in the night, Billy awoke and wanted her again. Then they lay talking in the dark while he smoked a cigar.
“What are you going to do about his daughter?” Lily asked.
“What do you mean, what am I going to do? If the ugly little broad ever gets here from Fort McPherson, I think Manning is going to pressure me to marry her.”
She felt her heart sink. He was good-looking, charming, and weak. But she loved him.
“Don’t worry, baby.” A grin lit his handsome face. “That way, I can control everything when he finally dies and then I can dump her. We’ll have everything her stupid papa’s worked so hard to build up. That is, unless a better opportunity presents itself.”
“If it does, I’d like to close the door on all of it, the two of us run away to California.”
“But otherwise, we’re stuck here.” Billy rubbed his chin. “We might have to spend the rest of our lives being the old goat’s henchman.”
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