Rattler's Law, Volume One

by James Reasoner

  White Eagle shrugged. "I haven't given it much thought. I've got a couple of weeks left before I have to get back to the Army. I am still a civilian. I wouldn't even have to go back if I decided not to." He grinned again, and this time the expression contained some genuine humor. "I could even stay right here in Abilene if I wanted to."

  Pierre frowned nervously. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

  The scout laughed. "I doubt that I could stand staying in a town for too long. I imagine I'll be on my way again in a day or two."

  "In that case, I know where you can stay." Pierre lowered his voice as he went on, "Go see a lady named Addie Plunket. She runs a boardinghouse on Walnut Street. Any man in town can tell you where to find it. Tell Addie I sent you."

  White Eagle nodded. "I'll do that." He wondered why his father had spoken so quietly and was about to question him when Katie appeared in the parlor doorway.

  She wore a crisp white apron now, and her flushed face indicated that she had been working hard at the stove. Delicious aromas wafted from the kitchen behind her. She smiled at the two men sitting on the divan.

  "You two are getting along just fine now, aren't you?" she asked brightly.

  "Sure," White Eagle replied.

  "I knew you would," Katie declared. "The bond between father and son cannot be broken easily."

  White Eagle glanced at Pierre. While the older man's lined face wore a pleasant expression, his eyes were icily cold.

  Let Katie believe what she wants, White Eagle decided. For now, that was enough.

  3

  The lunch that Katie had prepared was a far cry from the grub in the Army mess halls or the simple fare that White Eagle carried on the trail. Katie had spread a crisp, white linen cloth on the dining room table and set fragrant platters of ham, sweet potatoes, beans, greens, and flaky biscuits upon it. White Eagle enjoyed the meal more than any he had had in months.

  Of course, it would have been even more enjoyable if Pierre had not sat stiffly at the head of the table, shoveling food into his mouth, and speaking only in grunts and monosyllables. Katie had to carry the conversation almost by herself.

  She did a good job of it, White Eagle had to admit. She was as bright and cheerful as a spring sunrise, and she kept the atmosphere around the table light and friendly. Question after question about his life as an Army scout tumbled from her mouth, and White Eagle tried to answer all of them. Glossing over the more unpleasant aspects, he concentrated instead on relating anecdotes about the famous soldiers with whom he had served. Inevitably, Katie asked about the most famous of them all.

  "I knew Custer," White Eagle answered solemnly. "Never rode with the Seventh Cavalry, though. I've been attached to Mackenzie and the Fourth most of the time. The Fourth has a great record and has fought in plenty of battles, but we never ran into anything like Yellowhair did on the Little Bighorn."

  "Yellowhair?" Katie frowned.

  "That's what the Indians called Custer," White Eagle explained. "They didn't respect him very much, despite what you may have read in the newspapers. To tell you the truth, neither did I. He seemed to think he was immortal." The scout shook his head. "He learned differently."

  "The man was doing his job," Pierre said.

  "Maybe," White Eagle said with a nod. "At least, that was the way he saw it."

  "It was a horrible thing," Katie said with a shudder. "I don't think I want to talk about it."

  "It won't happen again," White Eagle assured her. "Any officer who felt the way Custer did has learned his lesson. The Indians are losing the war anyway. Without the buffalo, they can't last. And so many of the buffalo are gone now..."

  White Eagle's voice trailed off as sad images filtered into his thoughts. With hordes of railroad workers swarming across the frontier, hunters had drastically thinned the vast buffalo herds to provide food for the workers. Then, after the completion of the railroad, the demand for buffalo hides had brought on an even greater slaughter. In Dodge City he had seen piles of hides that were as tall as buildings. Driven south by the persistent hunters, the buffalo herds that had once numbered in the millions had dwindled dramatically. With the shaggy beasts had gone a way of life that had supported the Indians for centuries.

  "No great loss," Pierre said. "I've got nothing against Indians—"

  White Eagle barely suppressed his surging anger. That's awfully big of you, Pierre, the scout thought, considering that you had a squaw and a half-breed son.

  "But the Army is going to have to pacify them if the West is ever going to be settled. We haven't had any Indian trouble around here for a long time, and you can see how Abilene has grown. Folks don't want to live where they may be scalped at any time."

  White Eagle considered his father's unusually long speech for a moment, then said, "I can't say that I disagree with you. After all, I work for the Army. But from what I've seen, the white men have brought a lot of their troubles on themselves."

  Pierre scowled. "I should have expected as much—"

  "Is this your first visit to Abilene, White Eagle?" Katie interrupted quickly.

  He nodded. "I've been to Dodge and Wichita before, but this is the first time I've come to this part of the state. It looks like good country. I rode past some fine-looking ranches and farms."

  "It is quite a fertile land," Katie said. She glanced down at her stomach, then flushed at the possible double meaning of her words.

  "I've been thinking," Pierre said. "I don't know that it would be fitting for you to stay here with Katie being so close to her time."

  "I agree," White Eagle said quickly, before Katie could object. The last thing he wanted to do was spend a night under the same roof as Pierre Dandaneau. For one of the rare times in his life, he and his father agreed about something. "I don't want to be a burden," he said, smiling at Katie, "under the circumstances."

  "But you wouldn't be any burden," Katie protested.

  "It's all right," White Eagle said. "I'd feel better if you'd let me find another place to stay." He didn’t mention his father's recommendation of Addie Plunket's boardinghouse.

  "Well...of course you're free to do as you please." Katie was silent for a moment and then brightened as an idea struck her. "That would be fine, White Eagle. As long as you spend some more time with us while you're in Abilene."

  "I will," he promised, not looking at Pierre.

  Little more was said while the three of them finished their lunch. When he pushed his chair away from the table, White Eagle was pleasantly full. "That meal was worth every mile I spent on the trail, ma'am," he said sincerely.

  "Thank you," Katie responded. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

  "Be glad to help you clean up," he offered.

  "No, indeed," Katie replied as she stood up. "I'm still quite capable of handling my responsibilities."

  White Eagle noticed that Pierre didn’t offer to help. Instead, the freighter stood up and took a cigar from his shirt pocket. He lit it but didn’t offer one to White Eagle.

  The scout had stood up when Katie did, and now as she started to carry one of the platters to the kitchen, he said, "I'd best be going. I have to find a room. I don't imagine that will be much of a problem."

  "There's always the Drovers' Cottage," Katie said, naming the well-known hotel where many cowboys driving herds from Texas had stayed over the years. "And the Grand Palace on Texas Street—" Abruptly she stopped speaking and flushed.

  As he chewed on his cigar, Pierre said, "Katie just realized that neither of those places will take redskins."

  "Don't worry," White Eagle said coolly. "I'm sure I'll find a place."

  He wondered briefly if he would encounter that prejudice at Addie Plunket's. Would Pierre send him to an establishment knowing that he would be turned down? White Eagle couldn’t be certain.

  Katie had taken his hat earlier and placed it on the hall tree in the foyer. As White Eagle went to it now, Pierre sauntered after him. Katie hurriedly carried another platter into the kitchen, the
n bustled down the hall toward them, wiping her hands on her white apron.

  "I'm so glad you came," she told White Eagle as she paused beside Pierre. "Will you be back for supper tonight?"

  "We'll see," White Eagle replied. "I think there's a good chance I'll be busy."

  "Oh. Well, please feel free to stop by anytime you want. You're always welcome in our home. Isn't he, Pierre?"

  "Sure," Pierre said shortly, exhaling a cloud of acrid smoke. "Anytime."

  White Eagle heard the insincerity in his father's voice and knew that Pierre was only saying it to keep Katie happy. At least he's willing to make an effort, White Eagle thought. He still disliked his father intensely, but he had to admit that Pierre had changed. The old Pierre Dandaneau wouldn’t have cared about Katie's happiness.

  The scout put his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it and step out. Katie placed a hand on White Eagle's arm and, rising on tiptoes, planted a light, stepmotherly kiss on his lean cheek. White Eagle smiled and noticed a disapproving frown flash across Pierre's face. Good, he thought. Let the old scoundrel be annoyed.

  "Goodbye," he said softly.

  "Goodbye," Katie echoed.

  He untied his horse, mounted up, and headed toward downtown Abilene, convinced that he would have no trouble finding someone who would direct him to Addie Plunket's boardinghouse on Walnut Street.

  As he rode, he reflected on the hours he had just spent in his father's house. The time had been a mixture of anger, awkwardness, and some genuine pleasure. The best part of the day had been when Katie was there. White Eagle realized he already liked his stepmother. He had never expected to encounter a stepmother—especially not one as young and pretty as Katie—but he had enjoyed her company. He could still feel the warmth of her lips on his cheek...

  He shook his head. Despite her age, she was his father's pregnant wife. He had no business being attracted to her, no matter how beautiful she was. No matter how fine and soft her hair had been when it lightly brushed his cheek—

  With an effort, he willed those thoughts away and concentrated on finding Addie Plunket's place.

  When he reached Texas Street, White Eagle stopped in front of a large general mercantile. The ornately painted sign that hung in the window read The Great Western Store. A steady stream of townspeople moved through its double doors, and shop clerks were busily loading sacks of supplies into two of the many wagons parked in front of it.

  White Eagle urged his horse closer to one of the wagons and nodded to the clerk who was tossing a sack of flour into the wagon bed. "Howdy," he said. "Pretty day, isn't it?"

  The clerk barely glanced at him. "Guess it is if you don't have to work," he responded.

  "Mind telling me where I might find Walnut Street?"

  "Two blocks west," the aproned clerk said.

  "You know of a boardinghouse run by a lady named Addie Plunket?"

  Abruptly, the man looked up and scrutinized White Eagle closely. He frowned. "I'm not sure it's the place you're lookin' for, mister, but you might check at the house on the corner at Walnut and Fourth. Big place, you can't miss it."

  White Eagle nodded again. "Thanks, friend." He heeled his horse into motion.

  "Hey, mister!" the clerk called after him. White Eagle turned and looked over his shoulder. "You a half-breed?"

  "What of it?" White Eagle asked.

  The clerk held up his hands, palms out. "No offense, mister. I just thought I'd warn you not to get your hopes up."

  White Eagle stared coldly at the man for a long moment, then rode on. As he followed the clerk's directions, he realized that he need not have gone all the way to Texas Street. There was a much shorter route from Pierre's house. Without a doubt, Pierre could have told him, but his father had never gone out of his way to help anyone. In fact, Pierre had usually done everything possible to make things more difficult, as if watching his son struggle gave him some sort of perverse pleasure.

  The clerk was right—it would have been hard to miss the big house. The sprawling, two-story stone structure stood on a sweeping, tree-shaded lawn. A driveway led to a large stable located behind the house that was partly visible from the street.

  White Eagle tied his mount to one of the two hitchracks in front of the house next to a couple of other horses. He glanced at the stable and noticed that a pair of buggies were parked there. Some of the boarders appeared to be home, even though it was early afternoon, when most folks were still working.

  A pebbled walk curved under the trees to the porch of the house. As White Eagle started up it, his scout's instincts told him someone was watching him. He noticed a curtain flutter at one of the long, narrow windows to the left of the front door. Someone had been peeking around them.

  He stepped onto the porch and paused before lifting the brass lion's-head knocker on the thick, ornately carved door. Most boardinghouses in which he had stayed had been rough clapboard affairs, not solid structures like this one. He wondered how much room and board Addie Plunket had to charge to maintain a place like this.

  White Eagle rapped sharply with the knocker, then waited. A moment later, the door opened slightly, and a middle-aged woman peered at him through the crack. White Eagle nodded and touched the brim of his hat. "Would you be Mrs. Plunket, ma'am?" he asked.

  "Yes, I'm Addie Plunket," the woman answered in a husky voice. Dark hair touched with gray was smoothed back from a strong-featured, handsome face. The dress she wore was the same deep shade of blue as her intense, assessing eyes.

  "I was sent here—" White Eagle began.

  "One moment, young man," Addie Plunket said abruptly as she scrutinized him. "You have some Indian blood in you."

  White Eagle's jaw tightened. "I'm a half-breed," he said curtly. "At least that's what some people call me."

  Addie Plunket started to close the door. "I'm sorry," she said with an icy politeness. "I'm afraid I can't take Indian customers. It would cause too many problems with the regulars."

  White Eagle had encountered that reaction often enough over the years that he should have handled it smoothly. But this was one of the rare times when his anger got the better of him. He slammed his hand against the door to prevent it from closing further and scowled at the woman. Addie Plunket gasped and then glared angrily at him.

  "Pierre Dandaneau sent me here," White Eagle said gruffly. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

  At the mention of Pierre's name, Addie Plunket's eyes narrowed in a puzzled frown. "Pierre told you to come here?" she asked. "What are you to him?"

  That was none of the woman's business, White Eagle thought, but he knew if he wanted to stay here, he would have to answer the question. "Dandaneau is my father," he declared. "My name is White Eagle Dandaneau."

  "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" she said with a broad smile. "Please, come in."

  She stepped back and opened the door wide. White Eagle hesitated for a moment, wondering why she had changed her mind so quickly. Then he shrugged and entered the house.

  He could see now that Addie Plunket had a fine figure for a woman of her age. The years had thickened her somewhat through the middle, but the impressive thrust of her bosom and the lush swell of her hips more than made up for that. She closed the door behind him and then, in a gesture of familiarity that took him by surprise, slid an arm through his.

  "I can see the resemblance now," she said as she looked at him appraisingly. "You favor Pierre quite a bit. I'm sure that when he was your age, he was every bit as handsome and dashing as you are, White Eagle."

  Flattered, he grinned. This was the second time today a lady had referred to him as dashing. He had never thought of himself that way.

  He looked around the shadowy foyer. A thick, richly colored rug lay on the polished wood floor. The walls were paneled with dark wood. Across the foyer, a broad staircase wound upstairs; beside it, a long hall led to the rear of the house. Glancing to his right, he noticed a small sitting room furnished with a sofa and several armchairs
that at the moment was deserted. Addie steered White Eagle to his left, through an arched doorway into a large parlor. The parlor was anything but deserted, and White Eagle was shocked by what he saw.

  Four beautiful young women were lounging there. The heavy curtains over the windows were closed, blocking most of the sunlight. A pair of crystal chandeliers complete with a score of candles lit the room. In that soft, warm light the women's skin seemed to glow.

  And there was plenty of exposed skin to reflect that light. All the women were scantily clad. A short, lush brunette wore a black corset and step-ins that left her breasts and legs exposed. As she half-reclined on a divan, she smiled shamelessly at White Eagle. Sitting at the other end of the divan was a slender young woman with waist-length raven black hair draped over her shoulders. The sweep of hair seemed to cover more of her slender body than did her sheer camisole. In a chair on the other side of the room sat a mulatto, her burnished skin a compelling contrast to the white gown she wore.

  That left the young woman who was standing beside one of the windows. White Eagle realized that that was the window where he had seen the curtains move. Had it been this woman who had flicked back those heavy velvet draperies to study him? If so, he boldly returned the-favor.

  Strawberry-blonde hair fell in thick waves to her shoulders, framing a face that was undeniably beautiful. An insolent smile played on her full red lips, and her smoldering eyes were a deep green. The silk chemise that clung to every curve on her body was the same shade as her eyes. White Eagle couldn’t help noticing her hard nipples straining against the delicate fabric.

  This is no simple boardinghouse, White Eagle thought. From the appearance of the women and the richly appointed furnishings, it was obvious that Addie Plunket ran a highly-successful bordello, and his father had sent him here. The old reprobate had not changed as much as he had first thought.

  White Eagle threw his head back and laughed. The absurdity of the situation kept him laughing for a full minute. Addie and her girls simply smiled at him, undoubtedly accustomed to some bizarre behavior from their customers.