Rattler's Law, Volume One

by James Reasoner

  "Very much so," White Eagle answered honestly.

  "And Emily's been treating you well?"

  He nodded. "This has been one of the pleasantest times I've had in years, ma'am. And now, I suppose, we have to discuss payment."

  "Indeed," Addie replied. "Julius, would you step outside for a moment?"

  The black man nodded and went out, closing the door behind him. White Eagle glanced at the door, then looked levelly at Addie.

  "Well?" he said. "We might as well get this over with."

  "Of course. Mr. Dandaneau, we cannot accept your money. It is no good here. I don't want to hear another word about you paying for anything. Is that understood?"

  White Eagle stared at her in disbelief. The madam telling him that he didn’t have to pay for these luxuries. Impossible!

  "You don't want money?" he asked when he finally recovered his composure and his voice.

  "That's right," Addie said with a slow nod. "I can't explain further, Mr. Dandaneau, but you can stay here free of charge for as long as you like."

  She wasn’t joking; she was telling the truth. Perhaps this had something to do with his fracas with the man called Butch. "I seem to have stumbled into heaven without knowing it." He grinned broadly.

  Addie's smile widened. "I suppose that would make Emily an angel. Why don't you find her and tell her so, Mr. Dandaneau?"

  White Eagle clamped the cigar between his teeth and grinned. "I'll do just that," he declared.

  Sauntering down the hallway, he stopped at the parlor entrance and scanned the softly lit room for the cloud of strawberry-blonde hair. Cigar smoke and laughter filled the air. Several men were enjoying the company of the women before choosing the ones they wished to take upstairs. A couple of the clients grimaced when they noticed the buckskinned man standing in the doorway, but no one said anything.

  Wearing the impudent smile that seemed to be her trademark, Emily met him at the doorway and handed him the glass of champagne she was carrying.

  "I just told Addie that you were an angel," White Eagle said, sipping the champagne.

  Emily laughed lightly. "A fallen angel, maybe."

  "No," White Eagle said, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. "A real one."

  She flushed, unaccustomed to hearing such sincerity from the men she met here. White Eagle smiled down at her for a moment, then grinned broadly and slid an arm around her waist. "Come on," he said, gently urging her toward the stairs. The crude hilarity in the parlor didn’t appeal to him, not when he could be alone with Emily.

  Addie had implied he would be free to sample the charms of any of the women, but he had what he wanted, right in the curve of his arm.

  The next day White Eagle decided to leave the bordello. He knew he should have gone to see his father and Katie before this, but it had been hard to tear himself away from the perfumed delights at Addie's house. A man couldn’t make love, drink champagne, eat fine food, and sleep on silk sheets all the time, he thought as he saddled his horse. Julius had put the animal in the stable behind the house that first afternoon and had been taking care of it ever since.

  Rather than ride directly to his father's house, White Eagle decided to spend a little time taking a better look at Abilene. He walked his horse a couple of blocks out of the way to the town's main thoroughfare. As he rode up Texas Street, he saw that the place was bustling. Abilene was a fine, growing city where a man could settle down and raise a family.

  Even as he made the observation, he realized he wouldn’t be able to stand such an existence. He had spent too much time alone in wide open spaces where there wasn’t another human being within twenty miles. Living a life like that made a man feel stifled when he came to a city.

  As White Eagle walked his horse down the street, he heard Cully Markham hail him from the boardwalk in front of the cafe. White Eagle swung his horse toward him and nodded a greeting as he reined in.

  "Howdy," Cully said. "Didn't know if you were still in town, Mr. Dandaneau. The marshal and I haven't seen you since you rode in the other day."

  "I've been around," White Eagle replied. He instinctively liked the young deputy, but he didn’t want to explain his activities of the last few days.

  "Can I buy you a drink?" Cully went on, a friendly grin on his face. "Orion's Tavern down in the next block has the best whiskey in town."

  White Eagle returned the smile. "Thanks, Deputy, but I'll have to take you up on that some other time. Right now, I'm on my way to visit my father and his wife."

  "Suit yourself. Anytime you're around, the first one's on me."

  With a nod, White Eagle urged his horse into a walk. As he rode down the street, he saw the tavern Cully had mentioned next to a small house with a doctor's shingle hanging on a post in front of it. Boisterous laughter floated past the batwing doors of the saloon. At any other time, White Eagle would have accepted Cully's offer, but today he felt drawn to his father's house.

  He turned north and headed toward Third Street. As the house came into view, he realized how eager he was to visit there again—not so much to see Pierre, but to see Katie.

  As he tethered his horse, he noticed her come onto the porch. The bright, wide smile on her face was visible from the street, and he wondered if she had been waiting for him. He hoped she wasn’t offended that he had not returned sooner.

  "White Eagle," she scolded as he came onto the porch, "we thought you had gone without saying goodbye to us!" Her warm expression relieved any sting the sharp words might have inflicted.

  "I know," he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Katie. I've been busier than I expected to be since I got here."

  "Busy?" she asked with a puzzled frown. "But I thought you didn't know anyone in Abilene."

  "Well...something came up that needed my attention. Nothing to worry about." He didn’t want to lie to her, but at the same time, he wasn’t about to tell her that he had spent the last forty-eight hours in a whorehouse—a whorehouse that her husband had recommended.

  Katie took his arm. "Come on inside. I'm sure Pierre will be glad to see you."

  The curtains in the parlor had been pulled open, and bright midday sunlight flooded the room. Pierre was sitting on the divan with a newspaper in his hands, and he looked up from the dense columns of fine print as Katie and White Eagle came into the room.

  "Hello, son." His voice was friendlier than White Eagle had expected it to be. "How are you?"

  "I'm fine," White Eagle said. He waited for his father to say something about thinking that he had left Abilene, but no such comment was forthcoming.

  "Have any trouble finding a place to stay?" Pierre asked casually.

  "Not at all. I found a good place, and I'm very happy," White Eagle answered honestly. He said nothing else, but he watched Pierre for some sort of reaction.

  There was none, other than a grunted, "That's good."

  Katie still held White Eagle's arm. She squeezed it and asked, "You'll stay for lunch, won't you?"

  He nodded. He had expected an invitation and had told Emily and Addie that he wouldn’t be back until later in the day. He had not explained where he was going.

  "I'd be glad to," he said. "I've been remembering that meal you prepared a couple of days ago. There's nothing like home cooking."

  That wasn’t true—White Eagle had discovered that Julius could hold his own with anyone in a kitchen—but he was glad to see Katie smile brightly at the compliment.

  "You just sit down and have a chat with Pierre," Katie told him. "I'll put another plate on the table."

  As Katie bustled from the room, White Eagle felt his father's eyes on him. Turning to face him, White Eagle said in a low voice, "I suppose I should thank you."

  "For what?" Pierre asked, rustling his newspaper as he folded it and put it down on the table in front of him.

  "For recommending Addie Plunket's."

  A smile twitched at Pierre's mouth. "Enjoying yourself, are you?"

  White Eagle sat in one of the armchairs and re
sted an ankle on his other knee. "You know I've been enjoying it," he said. "I'd wager you're pretty familiar with the place yourself, from the reaction that your name got there."

  "Wouldn't know anything about it," Pierre answered curtly. He gestured toward the dining room, where they could hear Katie placing another plate on the table.

  White Eagle nodded in understanding. He didn’t want to upset Katie any more than Pierre did.

  "You planning to head back to the Army pretty soon?" Pierre asked.

  White Eagle leaned back in his chair and relaxed. "I'm not sure," he said. "I don't miss the work as much as I thought I would. But I'm not used to sleeping under a roof as much as I have been, either." He searched his father's face. "Why do you ask, Pa? Do you want me to stay around?"

  Pierre stared at him for a long moment, then said, "I ain't been pining away for you all these years, if that's what you mean, boy. You do what you want. It's none of my damn business."

  White Eagle was about to agree with him when light footsteps in the hallway announced Katie's return. She stopped in the doorway and said, "Lunch is ready, gentlemen."

  "I hope my showing up hasn't put you out," White Eagle said as he stood up.

  "Nonsense. We have plenty. And we're always glad to see you."

  They had a lot of food and everything else, too, White Eagle reflected as he sat down at the linen-covered table. This house was furnished with taste and elegance, and that took money. More money than a freight wagon driver should have had.

  He wondered what Pierre had been doing before he moved to Abilene. He wouldn’t have put it past his father to have been involved in something shady. The money that had paid for this house and its furnishings could have come only from illegal activities.

  Asking Pierre about it would do no good, and he knew it. The old man would be stone-faced and silent. White Eagle had seen Pierre react that way when he didn’t want to discuss something.

  This meal was as good as the first one. Once again, Pierre didn’t join in the conversation very often, but White Eagle was able to coax a few details about his work from him. It seemed that Pierre took jobs only when he felt like it, which seemed to be only once every couple of weeks. White Eagle's curiosity grew, along with his feelings of unease.

  Somehow, sitting in this house with Katie—when he had just come from the bed of a perfumed prostitute—embarrassed him. The occasional knowing grin that passed over his father's face didn’t help matters, especially when Katie asked him again what he had been doing with his time. White Eagle fumbled for a moment, then gave her a noncommittal answer, while Pierre all but chuckled. White Eagle cursed under his breath.

  Katie was the personification of innocence and delicacy to him. The last thing he wanted was to have her find out what he had really been doing. In her advanced stage of pregnancy, such upsetting news might be dangerous.

  If Katie sensed the growing tension around the table, she said nothing. When they had finished the meal, White Eagle offered to help her clear the table. "Thank you," she said, accepting his assistance this time. "I am a little tired today."

  As he carried some of the dishes into the kitchen, he asked hesitantly, "How long before...?"

  "Oh, soon," Katie answered with a smile. "It can't be too soon for me, though. I can't wait to see this child, to hold it and feed it and love it."

  The radiance in her eyes warmed White Eagle to the core of his being. The baby would be getting a fine mother. "I'll help you wash these," White Eagle said as he stacked the dishes on the counter.

  "That's not necessary," Katie assured him. "I'll sit down and rest for a while, and then I'll be fine. I can handle these dishes, White Eagle."

  He shrugged. "If you're sure..."

  "Of course, I am. Now, you go in and talk to Pierre. I think he'd enjoy that."

  Pierre was seated on the divan in the parlor, reading his newspaper. White Eagle stood in the doorway and said, "I'd better be going."

  Without looking up, Pierre nodded. "Suit yourself."

  The snide tone in Pierre's voice raised White Eagle's hackles. He glanced down the hall and heard Katie clattering dishes in the kitchen. "Anybody you want me to say hello to for you?" he asked in a low voice.

  Pierre's jaw tightened, and he looked angrily at his son. "You always were quick to speak your mind, boy. I never liked that in you."

  With a grin, White Eagle reached for his hat. "Say goodbye to Katie for me." He went out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  It would be good to get back to Addie's. If he spent too much time around Katie, he might get used to behaving like a normal man with a family, instead of the loner who had learned how to protect himself from all of the world's hurts.

  As White Eagle made love to Emily that afternoon, his life as an Army scout seemed very far away. The passion he felt while he was in her embrace erased his ugly memories of the hardships and dangers. It also made him forget the problems he had had in the past with his father.

  He was still not sure why Pierre had sent him to Addie's, but he was thankful that he had not heeded the warning of that store clerk on Texas Street.

  With Emily nestled in his arms, White Eagle lay back against the soft pillows, content to close his eyes and relax. Idly, he stroked the smooth skin of her hip, then slid his hand up to her hair. As the silky strands slipped through his fingers, he realized that he was wondering how it would feel to hold Katie in his arms instead of Emily.

  Emily felt him stiffen and lifted her head from his shoulder. "What is it?" she whispered. "Is something wrong?"

  White Eagle's eyes snapped open, and with a shake of his head he banished the unbidden image. His breathing felt harsh in his throat. "It's nothing," he said hoarsely. "Nothing's wrong."

  "For a second I thought you were going to jump out of your skin," Emily murmured. She settled against him and began caressing his chest. "You wouldn't want to do that."

  White Eagle didn’t reply. He lay silently while Emily went to sleep. Within moments he heard her deep, regular breathing. She was tired, and with good reason. They had been busy since he had arrived.

  Despite his own fatigue, he couldn’t sleep. He was a man who could doze right off in territory overrun by hostile Comanches, but now, suddenly, he was afraid to give in to slumber. He stared at the wallpaper pattern and saw that the paper was beginning to fade. During the next few hours, he became very familiar with it.

  He somehow knew that if he slept, he would dream. And in those dreams would be the alluring, forbidden face of Katie Dandaneau.

  "I hope you'll pardon me for saying so, sir, but you look like hell."

  White Eagle grinned tiredly at Julius as he paused at the bottom of the stairs. "I feel like it, too," he said. "I thought I might sleep a little this afternoon, but it didn't work out that way."

  Julius nodded in understanding, or what he thought was understanding, and White Eagle didn’t bother to correct the impression the black man obviously had. What other conclusion was anybody supposed to draw? They were in a whorehouse after all.

  From the sound of the raucous laughter that came from the parlor, a good crowd was on hand this evening. White Eagle had heard that some of the women were jealous of Emily and the time she spent with him. He was flattered, but he wouldn’t let it go to his head. He had wondered what would happen if someone wanted to hire Emily, but so far, he had not faced that problem. While he had received plenty of special treatment, he wasn’t sure where Addie would draw the line.

  More importantly, he couldn’t predict what his reaction would be. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that he had fallen in love with Emily, but he was genuinely fond of her.

  This evening he had traded his buckskins for a pair of dark pants and a plain white shirt. He knew the clothes made his Kiowa heritage a little less obvious, but that wasn’t the reason he had worn them. He simply felt the need for a change. Tonight, he wanted to be just another customer—albeit a non-paying one—rather than the half-breed
scout who had tracked Quanah Parker to Palo Duro Canyon.

  "Could I get you a drink, sir?" Julius asked as White Eagle strolled toward the parlor.

  "I'll manage," White Eagle replied. Getting a drink was no problem. Several bottles of champagne were always being passed around the parlor, and a willing serving girl was usually close at hand.

  Julius nodded and drifted back toward the kitchen. As White Eagle watched him go, he realized that he had not eaten in a while. One of the black man's sumptuous meals would taste good, but first he would have that drink.

  As he stepped into the parlor, White Eagle's gaze darted around the room. Out of habit, he noted where the men were positioned and looked for signs of trouble. Almost a dozen men were scattered around the room, along with an equal number of young women. Although the women were scantily dressed as usual, there was nothing happening other than talking and laughing and an occasional stolen kiss. The more serious activities were reserved for the upstairs rooms. Addie Plunket sat in an armchair near the parlor's entrance, hands folded demurely in her lap, watching her patrons when she wasn’t answering the frequent knocks on the front door.

  White Eagle absorbed all of that in a split second, and then he stiffened as he looked again through the smoky haze and saw the man on the other side of the room. He was sitting on a sofa, talking to one of the prostitutes while he caressed her bare shoulder. He seemed to sense eyes on him, and he looked up abruptly. His full brown beard quivered as his jaw tightened.

  Butch's fingers clutched the woman's shoulder, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. As he stood up, he removed his hand, revealing the ugly red imprints of his fingers on her soft skin.

  White Eagle froze and met Butch's angry gaze.

  Butch squared his shoulders and reached out to tap one of the other men on the shoulder. "Look," he said when his companion had turned away from the raven-haired woman he had been talking to. Butch went on in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room, "It's that damned redskin I told you about."

  Suddenly the talking and laughter died. Several other men, obviously friends of Butch, muttered angrily as they looked at White Eagle standing in the doorway.