Guns of Perdition

by Jessica Bakkers

  Grace tapped her foot on the floor. “Tomorrow Tokota and I are gonna take a look around and see what this place is all about. Maybe drop a few hints about the Darksome Gunman and see what shakes loose.”

  Jessie nodded.

  “Thought you might take your fancy tongue into some of the toff places and ask around.” Grace’s gaze narrowed and she sucked her lower lip. “I was real proud of you this evening. The way you talked to that Richmond dude was real mash. Tokota and I ain’t got the gift of conversing like that. Your pa must have taught you real manners before he died.”

  Jessie nodded and moved closer to Grace. “Pa taught me everything he could. Everything he knew. Like how to wait on a lady.” He raised a hand, and in a bold move, brushed her hair from her face. Grace stiffened and frowned at the gesture. Jessie stepped closer. He lowered his hand and grasped her arm and gently tugged her close. She stood taller than him, but as he pressed his body against hers, the difference in height melted away.

  “Grace,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

  “Jessie. No,” Grace said firmly. She pressed her palm against his chest and gave him a firm shove backward. Jessie’s face distorted in frustration.

  Grace shook her head and sighed. “Jessie, this ain’t right.”

  “’Cause of Kaga,” Jessie spat.

  Grace’s lips thinned. “Some. But also because you’re a boy. Between hay and grass.”

  “I’m old enough to piroot, Grace!” Jessie shouted.

  Grace’s expression darkened and she turned and strode to the door. She hesitated on the threshold and glanced over her shoulder. “Then why don’t you take a visit to the cathouse and piroot away in there. They don’t care if you are just a boy. But I do.” She pulled the door behind her and Jessie picked up the bowl of fruit and flung it at the closed door.

  Broken ceramic and fruit tumbled to the floor along with Jessie’s pride.

  Jessie teased Paul’s flanks with a fat brush and spoke softly to the gelding. He’d grown quite fond of the gentle horse, and he needed some of Paul’s quiet calm as his head swirled like a raging tempest. He gazed across the corral and frowned at Crowbait and Uzeblikblik standing stoic in the shadows. Both glared at him. Jessie stared at the stunning russet color of Uzeblikblik’s coat and flinched as he heard shuffling footsteps behind him. He turned and eyed the dour native, who walked awkwardly in his new cowboy boots.

  Jessie stiffened and turned back to Paul. After his encounter with Grace, the last thing he wanted was to trade words with Tokota. Weeks of riding hadn’t softened the lad’s opinion of the dark-haired man. Jessie would long remember Bess’s ruined body lying in the mud of Whitestand Hollow as Tokota and his band of Sioux charged through the town. Jessie would long remember and was loathe to forgive the man he blamed for calling down war on the hapless town.

  “I see I am not the only one to seek solace among the beasts.”

  Jessie didn’t answer.

  Tokota took up a comb and curried Uzeblikblik’s fiery coat. “You ride well and treat your horse admirably.”

  Jessie ignored the native man and patted Paul.

  “I saw you handle a weapon well back at Wakte-ku. You have some—”

  “Whitestand Hollow,” Jessie snapped. “The name of the town was Whitestand Hollow. Not Wacky koo or whatever.” He turned and shot Tokota a fierce glare.

  Tokota continued currying his horse. “Should not the name reflect the home’s people?”

  “It were the Hollowers’ home!” Jessie cried and slung his brush on the ground. “The white folk. The sheriff and his men. The townspeople. Bess...”

  Jessie choked on her name and was horrified to feel tears well in his eyes. He clenched his hands into tight fists. “Just because you and yours found it first don’t mean it weren’t home to people like Bess in the end. What you all did, coming in and waging war and killing, was just as bad as what they did to you in the beginning, though I’m apparently the only one who sees it that way.”

  Tokota frowned. “Your heart is heavy with anger.”

  “Damn right I’m angered up!” Jessie snapped.

  “I feel the point of your anger like a sharp spear, but I sense you want to aim your spear somewhere else?” Tokota’s words were quiet. There was no acrimony in his tone, merely a slight question.

  Jessie’s eyes burned with unshed tears. He turned back to Paul. It was so much easier to direct his anger at the native man; he barely knew Tokota, owed him nothing, and didn’t have the strange complex relationship with him as he did with her. She who’d ridden into town and brought death in her wake.

  Jessie leaned against Paul and breathed the gelding’s strong scent. “Just...just leave me alone.” He started as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. Tokota’s breath was warm against his ear.

  “Do not let your anger and grief consume you, hoksila. It will only lead to regret and sadness. Believe me. I know.”

  Jessie jerked away from Tokota’s touch. He kept his face buried in Paul’s coat for a long time, and when he finally looked up, he was alone in the stable.

  Alone with his anger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Jessie was up and gone while Mrs. Spelts still had breakfast cooking on the range. He declined her offer of eggs and bacon in favor of being out of the boarding house before Grace got up. His ego still smarted from the blow the previous night, and he replayed the scene over and over in his head. Sometimes Grace rebuffed him as coldly as she had in reality, but other times he let the scenario turn out differently; Grace would throw herself at him, wrap her arms around him, and declare him her one true love.

  Jessie shook his head and scuffed the ground as he walked. No matter how much he wished it, no matter how much he prayed for her deliverance into his arms, it would never happen.

  When he finally looked up from his reverie, he found himself out the front of La Chatte Affamee.

  By the light of day, he saw the building was constructed of solid wooden boards painted a delicate shade of lilac. There was nothing to indicate the true purpose of the place aside from the plaque. The building looked like just another well-to-do bunkhouse or private manor. A large magnolia grew in the corner of the estate, and where the pink and white petals fell, the ground was carpeted with pastel color. Nearby honeysuckle tickled his nose and left a pleasant fragrance lingering on the back of his tongue. From within the manor Jessie heard strains of wildly enticing music. There was something about that music that made him take the first step onto the porch. It zinged in his blood and urged him to jump out of his skin and dance. He took the second step. The double doors parted a crack and Jessie saw a warm glow inside. He climbed the third step. The music called to him. He took the final step and crossed the porch. He looked up at the sign and gently pushed open the doors.

  A warm breath of air surrounded him, and a lilting melody beckoned him in. Inside the cathouse it was considerably darker than outside. Everywhere he looked he saw finery. Satin. Silk. Lace. Feathers. Polished boards. Glowing lamps and candles shed warm light, and something burned in a queer holder that gave off fragrant smoke. Jessie reeled as he smelled myrrh.

  The strange music started again, and Jessie glanced around. He frowned and wandered over to a spinning cylinder with a protruding flower-shaped cone. His jaw dropped as he realized the exotic music came from the device. He hunched over the device and was studying intently when something touched his elbow. He flinched and spun around, and all thoughts of the musical device vanished from his mind.

  Jessie stared into a woman’s wide green eyes, highlighted with flecks of gold. Her high cheekbones emphasized the large roundness of her eyes, though everything else on her face was petite—a small snub nose, perfectly formed rosebud lips, and a tiny mole above her upper lip. Her skin was the color of coffee with a splash of milk, and her thick dark hair was pinned up in an elaborate style. She was the most beautiful woman Jessie had ever laid eyes on.

  “It’s a phonograph,” she said with
a smile.

  Jessie blinked. “Huh?”

  “The music machine. It’s a phonograph. Very new, straight from Washington.” Her lilting accent tickled Jessie’s ears and made him shiver in delight. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to lower his gaze.

  “Is this the first time you’ve heard Cajun music?”

  Jessie swallowed and nodded.

  The woman smiled. “Makes your blood sing, no?”

  Jessie nodded dumbly and continued to gawk at her.

  She smiled and peered at him behind her long lashes. “Ah, but where are my manners. You haven’t come to talk about phonographs and music. You’ve come for other pleasures.”

  Jessie frowned and lowered his eyes. “Uh no. I mean yes. I mean yes, ma’am, I’m not here about the music. Though it’s nice and all. I’m here just trying to get some skinny.”

  The woman’s smile deepened, revealing a dimple in her cheek. “Skinny? Or just skin?” When Jessie flushed, she laughed and playfully brushed his arm. “Oh bebette, don’t blush. I’m just having some fun at your expense.” She drew him away from the phonograph. Jessie tried to control his trembling, but her nearness and scent clouded his mind.

  She led him through the sitting room into a grand parlor. Jessie stopped mid-stride and his mouth fell open at the sight before him. Half a dozen women lounged about the parlor. Some read, some chatted, and others nibbled on delicacies. Two were involved in private negotiations with clients. Jessie had seen whores at work before, but these women were not whores. They were exotic maidens of silk and dreams. Each woman was more beautiful than the last and each demanded Jessie’s attention.

  The lovely creature on his arm laughed at his reaction. “My girls make an impression, don’t they?”

  Jessie turned to her; his brows arched. “Your girls?”

  “Ga lee, I have been remiss. I’m Madame Ruby Cherie Lefeuvre and this is my house, La Chatte Affamee.”

  Jessie blinked. “Y’mean...you’re the box herder?”

  Ruby smirked. “I wouldn’t use such a term, but yes, I am the madame of this establishment.”

  Jessie bit his lip, embarrassed at having used such a vulgar expression. He swallowed and gazed around the room. He couldn’t help but stare at one of the girls who balanced on a man’s knee as she licked his ear. The man’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open in rapture. After a few seconds, his eyes popped open and he grabbed her hips and stood her up. He leaped to his feet, took her hand and strode toward the stairs.

  “Would you like a girl?”

  Jessie frowned and turned to Ruby. She leaned against a wall and toyed with her lace bodice. Jessie glimpsed her shapely cleavage for a few second before he swallowed and dragged his eyes up to her face. “I ah, no... I couldn’t...”

  Ruby pushed off the wall and glided to Jessie’s side. “Co faire, poor bebette.” She pressed against him and one hand slid through his hair. “There is nothing to fear.” Her lips turned down in an exaggerated pout and she said, “Is it your first time?”

  Jessie’s cheeks burned and he looked away.

  Ruby stroked his cheek. Her fingers tickled his golden beard. “Shh, beb. There’s always a first time. I will make it...unforgettable.”

  Jessie jolted and stared into her flecked gaze. “You will?”

  Ruby laughed gently. “My eye, petite! Not me personally. I don’t enjoy the company of guests, my sweet. But I’ll ensure you have nothing but the best. Mozelle!”

  One of the long-legged beauties turned. As her gaze fell on Jessie her lips twisted up in a smile, and she slid from the chaise longue. She wove across the floor, and as she approached, Jessie was engulfed in her spicy bouquet. She was tall and something about her reminded him of Grace. Her gaze was attentive and seductive, but there was also a hint of mercenary in her eyes. It helped that she was blond and willowy. He was instantly attracted to her. Mozelle pushed close against him and one hand drifted to the bulge in his breeches.

  “Well, howdee, sweet one.”

  Jessie moaned and glanced at Ruby as the blond nibbled his ear.

  Ruby smiled. “Mozelle will make all your dreams reality. Of course, I’ll be needing payment up front.”

  Jessie frowned and fingered his vest. The coin pouch Grace had won at Madame Beulah’s was in his pocket; lightened after weeks of use, but still ample nonetheless. He resisted the urge to close his eyes as Mozelle’s tongue slid in his ear. Jessie drew the purse and held it out to Ruby. She took the purse, glanced inside, and smiled.

  Mozelle’s hot breath caressed Jessie’s ear. “Do you want to sit first or go straight upstairs?”

  Jessie tried to find a polite way to turn her down. To turn them both down. He wasn’t about to pay for sex. It was obscene. Besides, he was waiting for Grace...

  “Straight upstairs,” he murmured. The blond smiled and took his hand. She led him across the hardwood floor and Jessie followed her upstairs.

  It was well into noon when Jessie left La Chatte Affamee. As the double-doors closed behind him he blinked in the daylight and gazed around at Temerity. He leaned against the wall for a moment and shook his head. The change in temperature and the bright afternoon sun made him dizzy. A thick pulsing sound slugged through his head, not altogether unpleasant, but disconcerting nonetheless. It prevented him from thinking clearly. From...thinking.

  He drew a deep breath and smelled honeysuckle and the faded bouquet of fornication. A small smile came to his lips as he shuffled to the steps. His smile widened as he saw a familiar man cautiously climb the stairs.

  George Richmond looked up into Jessie’s eyes and jerked in shock. “Uh, wait... This isn’t what it looks like.”

  Jessie tottered down the steps until he stood beside the new husband. He clapped Richmond on the shoulder. His head swam and a punch-drunk smile came to his lips. “What she don’t know won’t kill her.”

  Richmond gave him a faint smile, though his eyes were narrowed. “Are they, you know, worth it? I’ve heard good things about the women of La Chatte Affamee. Come all the way from Pennsylvania to see them.”

  Jessie smirked. “They’ll cut you a swell and leave you all acock.”

  Richmond grinned. He glanced at Jessie and squinted. “You won’t say a word to the missus?”

  “I’ll keep it dry, friend.”

  Richmond adjusted the front of his trousers and nodded. He strode up the stairs and disappeared inside. Jessie smiled dreamily and set off down the street with a lilting whistle dancing on his lips to the tempo of the pounding that danced through his skull.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It was dusk when Tokota and Grace returned, hot, sweaty, and frustrated. Jessie sat on the porch opposite the newlywed couple and rocked back and forth on a rocking chair. He hummed a monotonous tune beneath his breath and tapped out a rhythm on the arm of the chair.

  Grace’s eyebrows shot up as Jessie puffed away on one of her cheroots. Her lips thinned, but she didn’t say anything as he blew smoke in her direction. Tokota and Kaga sank on the porch, exhausted from their day of running about town.

  “Any luck?” Jessie asked as he dragged on the cheroot.

  Grace scowled and shot a quick glance at the Richmonds. They looked at her intently as they held hands and smiled.

  Grace licked her lips. “Nope. Don’t seem like anyone in this town knows anything about our missing kin. Women in this place are pretty loathe to talk and we ain’t seen no menfolk around to shoot the breeze. How about you, Jessie? Get anywhere?”

  Jessie’s eyes flicked to Richmond’s and the two men shared a secretive smile. Jessie languidly turned back to Grace. “Nope. Folk in this burg are pretty close-lipped.”

  Grace sighed and leaned against the rail. She frowned as she eyeballed Jessie. “Goes hand in hand with the weird...laziness of the town. Ain’t no one in a hurry that I can see. You noticed that?”

  Jessie shrugged and handed her the cheroot. Grace took a long drag.

  “I did h
ear we should check in with the local ladies of the line. There ain’t much goes on in this town they don’t know about, or so goes the slangander,” Jessie said offhandedly. His fingers tap, tap, tapped on the chair.

  Grace chewed the cheroot and glanced at Tokota. He gave his customary shrug.

  Grace returned the gesture. “Makes sense. Folk get all loose in the tongue when they’re spooning.”

  “Well, I for one think this whole conversation is wretched and vile,” Minnie said with a frown. She gazed at Grace with contempt. “And I don’t think much of those who’d wander into a den of sin like that. If you’re wanting information about missing kin, why not go to the constabulary? No. You’d rather try a nest of slatterns.”

  George Richmond put his hand on Minnie’s arm and tried to shush her. She turned on him and frowned. “No, George Richmond. I won’t stay here and listen to this. I’m going in for supper. Good evening.” She rose in a flurry of skirts and pushed past Tokota and Kaga.

  Richmond frowned and followed her. He paused at Jessie’s side. “Stay single, friend. Much easier on the ticker.”

  Jessie grinned and sloppily tipped his hat to Richmond.

  When the newlyweds retreated inside Grace let out a sigh. “Phew. Don’t you just hate dandified folk and their goddamn morals?”

  Jessie stared at Grace and shrugged. “So. We gonna get?”

  “Now? It’s a quarter of six!”

  Jessie frowned. “Right. Getting on for nighttime when whores do their best trade. So, now’s the time to get.”

  Grace snorted. “Maybe so, but you’re forgetting one thing. Tonight’s the first night of the full moon.”

  Jessie’s lips thinned as he turned to Kaga. The wolf sat beside the front door and quietly watched the interplay between Grace and Jessie. His eyes were bright with awareness.