Power in the Blood

by Greg Matthews

  He stood up, the Bible in one hand, his sawed-off in the other, and began walking.

  45

  There having been not the least sign of public suspicion over the dual suicides of the Garfinkles while in official custody, Rowland Price was free to pursue other interests, and so became intrigued by the Sleeping Savage. He knew Leo was not at all concerned about the success of the venture proposed to him by Imogen, but the Indian in the rain barrel had triggered inside Rowland a kind of fascination. The thing, once laid out in its gleaming new sarcophagus of glass, which had come all the way from Chicago, was dreadful to behold, but its very ugliness was the lure that, according to its co-owner, Nevis Dunnigan, would bring crowds flocking around it, eager to pay fifty cents apiece for a glimpse of hideous antiquity. Rowland did not doubt he was right.

  Dunnigan had himself become an object of interest to Rowland, who had twice seen him leaving Imogen’s house on Bowman Street with the air of a man well pleased. Suspecting Leo’s mistress might be betraying him, Rowland began cultivating the company of Dunnigan in order to ascertain the truth of the matter. Nevis did have a legitimate reason to visit Imogen, in that she was the unofficial sponsor of the Sleeping Savage, and yet, Rowland told himself, there was more to the relationship than mere business. Dunnigan had the look of a man smitten by love; Imogen the look of a woman who knows it. The discovery of secret trystings between Nevis and Imogen would have served Rowland’s interests well. He wanted Leo to rid himself of the lady before he entered public life. Imogen was far too lovely to be the consort of a politician, or even (Rowland shuddered at this) his wife.

  And so he went often to the store wherein Nevis was establishing his display. The windows were covered by sheets to deny the curious a free look at the Indian on his bed of velvet, but Rowland was always welcomed there. He had yet to meet Nevis’s partner, and could not understand the man’s reluctance to participate in the setting up of their joint enterprise. “Smith is too shy by half for this kind of thing,” Nevis told him.

  There was about Dunnigan an odor Rowland could not define, a miasmic quality lurking beneath the bouquet-laden pomade he doused his hair with. The odor was unpleasant, vaguely redolent of the outhouse. Rowland formed the improbable opinion that Nevis had yet to master the basic art of wiping his ass properly, but overcame his mild disgust for the sake of digging out the facts hovering between Nevis and Imogen like a wisp of cloud, or an unacceptable stink.

  “How soon before the public may see your sleeping beauty, Nevis?”

  “A day or two more. I feel the curtains behind the dais should have a deeper fold to them, a more richly luxuriant appearance. That would enhance the crystal casket’s visual qualities greatly, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, absolutely. You seem to have the requisite eye for such detail, Nevis. Have you engaged in this line of business before?”

  “In a sense,” said Nevis, his eyes suddenly wary.

  Rowland noted the reaction and pressed further. “May I ask for greater detail? The time, the place, the nature of the enterprise? Your work does so impress me.”

  “Denver,” Nevis mumbled, and went to occupy himself with a fussy rearranging of the plush green drapes. Rowland felt that progress of a kind had been made, but not enough. He followed Nevis and asked, “Is that where you met Miss Starr?”

  “Lovey Doll? No, that was Kansas City.…”

  Nevis realized his mistake and began turning crimson from the neck up. He had been nipping at a bottle in secret all morning, and the liquor had found its way to his tongue. Rowland pretended not to notice the furious blushing of unintended betrayal. Lovey Doll; he was sure he had heard that name before. He had the scent now of what had been bothering him about the unlikely pairing of these two—Imogen Starr (or Lovey Doll, if the name was not merely a personal endearment Dunnigan had attached to the woman) and the blushing entrepreneur who had again turned his back to hide a guilty conscience. Rowland smelled blood. His target was not Nevis, who happened simply to be the unwitting bait; the trap he wished to set was for Imogen, whose names, he now suspected, might be legion.

  Nevis went that night to Lovey Doll’s house, and told her outright he had inadvertently let slip her real name. Rowland Price, he said, was sniffing around him for some reason unconnected with the Savage. “I know an insincere face when I see one, and that fellow has the closest thing to a mask I’ve ever seen. I don’t like him, Lovey Doll. He says he knows you and Mr. Brannan, but he doesn’t act as a true friend would.”

  Lovey Doll listened to his anguished gushing, and wished Nevis Dunnigan far away, in China perhaps, where he could do her no further harm. Nevis was too guileless for the constant practice of deception, and although this faculty made him a charming companion and true friend, as he would express it, such open-mouthed foolishness could not be allowed to continue. Nevis must leave town forthwith, before Rowland Price, whom Lovey Doll was aware had never liked or trusted her, dug deeper into the fallow fields of Nevis’s past, where just one gorgeous flower bloomed—herself. If Price ever learned of her previous life, he would run to Leo with the news, and all her plans for ultimate wealth and the security only Leo could provide would come crashing down like painted scenery. Nevis would never knowingly disappoint her, but he already had.

  “Nevis, you alarm yourself over small things that mean nothing, truly they don’t. You should concern yourself less with my needs than your own. I have been thinking. Would it not make better sense for you to begin showing your Indian in Denver, rather than Glory Hole, or even better, Chicago or New York, or San Francisco if the mood takes you. Anywhere but here, Nevis.”

  “But … this is where we found him, Smith and I. This is where he should be seen, as close to the site of his demise as possible. You didn’t mention these places before.”

  “And that is because I have no head for such things, dear friend, but Mr. Brannan has, to be sure, and it was only yesterday he said to me what a pity it was that you were not taking your specimen to a more expansive venue for commercial gain than here.”

  “He did?”

  “His exact words were, if I recall correctly, ‘Those fellows have a unique offering, but they offer it to the wrong crowd, in the wrong place.’ Yes, I believe that’s what he said.”

  “But … we have a solid deal with the owner of a vacant store. The Savage is already installed, the fliers already posted on walls hither and yon. Mr. Brannan’s own newspaper has whipped public anticipation to a fever pitch.… This is all too late, I fear.”

  “Oh, how unfortunate.” Lovey Doll smiled. “Well, then, you must make the best of it, I suppose.”

  She could see how crestfallen Nevis had become. It was amazing how very seriously men took her comments. Lovey Doll sometimes imagined that if a man came to her and called her a liar and a lazy know-nothing whore, she would follow him anywhere. But such an occurrence was unlikely; men were fools, one and all, and Nevis was surely one of the biggest.

  “I do hope I have not upset you.”

  “No, no … Perhaps you’re right about finding a broader venue, but … but here we are, and here we’ll stay, at least for the time being.”

  Lovey Doll knew Nevis would do what he said, and that would not be good for her. He must be made to go away before any further scraps of personal history escaped his lips and found their way into the receptive ears of Rowland Price.

  She found two likely men lounging outside a store, both with the look of poverty about them. “You fellows there,” she said from the window of her carriage. “Do you wish to earn some easy money?”

  “I reckon that’s the best kind,” said one, sauntering closer.

  “Get in. Is your friend interested also?”

  “He is if he knows what’s good for him, ma’am.”

  She explained their work in detail. They were to begin after midnight, and make no noise. The stolen Indian would be carried by them through certain alleys to a place where a wagon hired with Lovey Doll’s cash stood
waiting. The men were to drive their cargo to a remote place, and there bury it. They would receive fifty dollars each for their thievery, and would be hunted to the ends of the earth and punished severely if they disclosed any part of the arrangement. The men were agreeable, and received ten dollars apiece to seal their commitment.

  “How come you want this done, ma’am?” asked one.

  “I believe it is indecent to present a dead body for public display,” she said, “even if it is a redskin. There must be no encouragement for this type of circus in a Christian world.”

  “That’s right, ma’am, that sure is right. We’ll take care of it for you, don’t you worry.”

  “Gentlemen, you are the ones who will have cause for worry if you don’t do exactly what I have told you to do. I do hope I have made my intentions clear.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We get the rest of what’s owed us tomorrow night, same place as the wagon’ll be tonight.”

  “Be careful, do.”

  Nevis came rushing to her early next morning, as Lovey Doll anticipated he would.

  “It’s gone … gone completely!”

  “What is gone, Nevis?”

  “My Sleeping Savage is gone! Someone has taken him from me! Why would anyone do such a thing? What could the purpose be? If they attempt to show him elsewhere, I’ll have them arrested for fraud and theft and … Oh, Lovey Doll, whatever shall I do now?”

  “My goodness, I have no idea at all what steps you might take, Nevis. How shocking this is.”

  “They took him in the dead of night, broke open the back door and opened the case.… He’ll spoil in the air, I know he will. He has to be kept in an airtight case. He’ll be ruined!”

  “You must ask yourself, Nevis, who would do such a thing.”

  “Why would anyone want to? It makes no sense. The Savage can’t be exhibited elsewhere, not after Mr. Brannan made its existence known here. No one would dare!”

  “Then perhaps it was taken out of spite. Who has become your enemy of late?”

  “Enemy? I have no enemies.”

  “Were you not telling me just yesterday of a certain individual you have no trust in?”

  “Price? But … he’s a friend of Mr. Brannan’s.”

  “Not so much a friend, I gather, as a business associate.”

  “He has no reason, though.…”

  “None that you know of. Mr. Price is a dark horse, and not to be trusted.”

  Lovey Doll had not intended to implicate Rowland Price in the disappearance of the Savage, but it occurred to her, observing Nevis’s agitation, that the threat to her plans for marriage to Leo was not so much from Nevis, who had let slip her true name to Price, as Price himself. Price was the one attempting to sabotage her dream. She suspected he was not so foolish as to attempt dissuading Leo openly; instead, he would find proof of Imogen Starr’s past and confront Leo with that, making the point that the richest man in the west would risk his fine name by marrying a woman with an alias. If Nevis could only be persuaded to see Price as his enemy, her own precarious position might be considerably strengthened.

  Lovey Doll went to a drawer and took from it a small pistol. She offered it to Nevis with the advice, “Be prepared for anything, my good friend. When someone like that begins his work against you, it may end with outright threats against your person. He has the eyes of a man-killer. Take it.”

  Nevis accepted the pistol with a hesitant hand. Lovey Doll’s description of Price did not jibe with his own impression of the man—ingratiating yet distant; a sly fox, not a bloodthirsty wolf. He put the gun inside his jacket anyway, so as not to offend Lovey Doll, who had his best interests in mind.

  Lovey Doll lowered her eyes and said, “Mr. Price has offended me also, Nevis.”

  “He has? In what way?”

  “He has … made suggestions to me which are impolite, to say the least.”

  “Mr. Brannan’s own friend? But you must tell him, Lovey Doll, so he knows what kind of snake the fellow is.”

  In love with her though he was, Nevis could accept the cold fact of Lovey Doll’s involvement with a rich and powerful man, but the outrageous conduct of Price was another matter entirely. How dare he soil the delicate ear of Lovey Doll with such impropriety, the swine! If Price had been there in the room, Nevis didn’t doubt he would have drawn the pistol and forced an apology from him, right there in front of the woman Price had offended. Lovey Doll would reward him for defending her with a hug at the very least, and the thought of that hug sent Nevis’s pulse, already galloping with anger, into a frenzy.

  “Nevis, you have gone so pale. Is something wrong?”

  “No, I … I must sit down.”

  He collapsed onto an ottoman and placed a hand across his chest, breath whistling between his teeth. Lovey Doll thought for a moment or two that he might die then and there, ridding her of her problem’s lesser half, but the color began returning to Nevis’s face as she watched, and Lovey Doll was obliged to arrange a look of relief across her features.

  “A drink, if you please …,” gasped Nevis.

  “A drink?”

  “Any kind will do.”

  She fetched him a generous brandy. Nevis disposed of it in two swallows, then raised a beseeching eyebrow along with the empty glass. She poured him another, and he was more inclined this time to drink like a civilized man. His nose began to redden visibly, as if suffused with fresh life. Lovey Doll thought him quite pathetic. If only he would go away, looking for his disgusting Indian, and become lost. She returned the grateful smile he gave her, and wondered just how far she might be able to goad him toward putting a bullet or two into Rowland Price.

  Nightsoil Smith was greatly upset. With their Sleeping Savage gone, and the dissolution of their ice and shitcan monopolies about to be replaced by modern methods of production and disposal, he and Dunnigan would be out of business in less than a year, by Smith’s calculation.

  “She says it was this Price feller?”

  “Imogen has no idea who perpetrated the theft.”

  “But you said she said it was him, most likely, and he’s been sniffing around the Indian, you said. What’d he do that for if he never intended to steal it?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Nevis, “but it hardly constitutes proof.”

  “He did it, I bet,” said Winnie.

  All three had resorted strongly to the bottle following news of their disaster. The mood in Smith’s shack was somber, all the optimism of recent weeks gone. Nevis felt responsible somehow. At least they still had the glass case, unharmed and complete, although what use it could serve now was debatable. Winnie was the least perturbed; she had thought the scheme foolish to begin with, and the loss of the Indian seemed no more than what was called for to bring her men to their senses. They should have been thinking about real work to replace the jobs that soon would be lost, not setting themselves up as amateur Barnums with their pickled redskin. She knew better than to say so; they would see the error of their ways soon enough, and do what they should already have done.

  “Where would he take it, do you think?” asked Smith.

  “We don’t know that he did take it,” Nevis reminded him.

  “But who else would?”

  “I haven’t the least notion, but that doesn’t necessarily mean Price is implicated.”

  “You don’t want to believe it because he works for the feller that’s keeping your lady friend.”

  “She is not my lady friend! What a ridiculous thing to say. You’re drunk, Smith.”

  “I am not. You’re always visiting with her. Who is she really? Did you know her before?”

  “Never in my life! Lovey Doll and I were complete strangers before I approached her regarding the Savage.… Oh … I meant Miss Starr, that is.…”

  Smith and Winnie looked at each other, then at Nevis, whose face was becoming mottled by confusion.

  “Lovey Doll?” Winnie leered. “Did you say Lovey Doll?”

  “He did,” sa
id Smith, “I heard him. Now I want to hear some more, and I don’t want no lies about never knowing the fine lady before, all right?”

  Nevis squirmed with discomfort. He had done it again, for the second time in as many days. Price might have been polite enough to overlook the name, even if his ears had pricked, but Smith and Winnie were a different proposition.

  “I … may have misled you, but for perfectly acceptable reasons,” he said, a sickly smile on his face.

  Lovey Doll made her suggestion again, this time with some asperity. Leo had of late been distracted by problems he would not discuss with her, and had been running a mild fever that seemed to have weakened his constitution somewhat. The time to be firm had arrived, and Lovey Doll would not be put off any longer.

  “Are you attempting to humiliate me, Leo?”

  “Whatever do you mean? I would never do such a thing.”

  She sat close to him and assumed a sorrowful expression.

  “Humiliation is my lot, nonetheless.”

  “I find myself unable to understand you, Imogen. Please speak plainly. I feel dreadful tonight.”

  “If you cannot understand, Leo, it’s because you don’t wish to. You know very well the topic to which I refer. The topic, Leo my love, is holy matrimony, and there is none closer to a woman’s heart, yet you insist on ignoring my needs, while fulfilling your own. How very like a man that is. I’m dismayed and disappointed to find that you are, perhaps, without integrity in this matter. There! I have said it aloud! Whip me if you will for speaking my mind!”