by My Desperado
If she wasn’t mistaken, the shadow chuckled, the sound so deep and quiet she had to cock her head to catch just a whisper of it.
“It looks like he’s dead,” came the response finally. “Real dead.” The shadow approached a step, causing the women to retreat cautiously backward, still gripping hands in desperate terror.
“Oh!” Her mother had been right, Katherine thought in frenzied retrospect. She should never have read those dime novels about the heroes of the West. She should have married Edgar Winston when he’d first asked and should never have left Boston. “Well yes, actually,” she admitted with a spasmodic nod. “He is dead. Quite dead, I’m afraid. But we aren’t responsible.” She was breathing hard and wishing she’d had those twelve babies of Edgar’s, even though he was potbellied and holier-than-thou.
There were worse things than being married to a sanctimonious stuffed shirt.
Being hanged for instance. Being hanged was at the very bottom of her list. “I mean,” Katherine continued, “we are responsible, but we didn’t mean to do it.”
“Looks like he died happy,” said the dusky voice from the darkness.
Katherine scowled, canting her head again and wishing to God she could see his face. “I beg your pardon.”
“He died happy,” the shadow repeated. “I can only assume one of you two should get the credit for that.”
Daisy and Katherine turned face-to-face, seeing the identical mixture of horror and confusion in the other’s expression.
“Which of you was it?” he asked quietly.
The women’s eyes widened to an even greater extent.
Daisy moaned in silence. She’d never see that picket fence, never have babies and give them a better life than she’d known.
Poor Mother, lamented Katherine in anguish. She’d die of shame when she learned the truth of her daughter’s demise. But it had been Katherine’s decision to accept the saloon as her inheritance and with that the responsibility of looking after her employees.
“Me,” they said in squeaky union, each courageously trying to save the other.
“Who?” The stranger’s tone was mildly surprised, and the two women turned inward, each telepathically ordering the other to silence before staring at the shadow again.
“Me,” they echoed a second time.
“Riding double?” intoned the stranger, taking a step forward and seeming to grow in size as he nodded briskly toward the corpse. “He was a lucky man.”
The women squeezed closer together, backing away, with Daisy moaning a bit in utter mental anguish. She’d held so tenaciously to the hope of a better future.
Katherine felt Daisy’s emotional agony like a stab in her conscience. Her own life had been so uncomplicated that she’d fantasized about enduring and miraculously overcoming the hardships of the West. While Daisy on the other hand, had never been given a chance at a decent life. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right, and Katherine couldn’t bear to have her take the blame for a death she hadn’t meant to cause.
“It was my fault,” Katherine blurted. “All mine. But I didn’t kill him.”
“‘E died o’ natural causes,” chimed Daisy. “Real natural.”
The stranger tilted his head slightly. “There’s nothing more natural than—”
“Please, sir,” interrupted Katherine, frantically hoping not to hear the word he was about to say. “There’s been no foul play here. I promise you I—”
“It ain’t none of my concern.”
Utter silence gripped the place, then, “What?” both women questioned numbly.
“I’m in town to conduct business and get out. What you ladies do to entertain your friends is none of my affair,” assured the whiskey-voiced stranger.
Katherine knew she should be grateful. She knew God had saved her foolish skin, and she should chant salutations of praise and promise everlasting holy servitude. “But he’s dead,” she said abruptly, somehow appalled by the man’s callous acceptance of the situation. “Dead.”
“Looks damn dead to me,” remarked the shadow dryly. “So if you ladies will excuse me, I’ll leave you to your diversions and see to my business.” He turned slightly, ready to leave.
Katherine was shocked speechless, while Daisy, made practical by circumstance and a strong desire to survive, pulled her hands from her employer’s grip and took a pace forward.
“That’s specially kind of y’ stranger,” she called, smoothing a hand down her waist to her hip. “P’raps I can repay the favor.”
The man stopped, pausing a moment before tipping his hat. “I appreciate the offer. But I only have a couple of hours before my business appointment, and I can see a woman like you would deserve more time.”
Daisy, flattered by the words spoken in a gravelly, seductive tone, straightened her back. “After yer business?”
“It’s unfortunate, but I’m meeting a man and then I leave.”
“Cooo.” Daisy cocked her hip in open invitation. “Seems a pity. But maybe at a later time. What’s yer name, stranger?”
Quiet held the street.
“Ryland,” he answered. “Travis Ryland.”
“God save us!” Daisy’s sudden desperate plea was no more than a whimper. “Y’ve really come, then. God save us!” She stumbled backward, but Katherine caught her about her hunched shoulders.
“Daisy. What’s wrong? What is it?”
“Ryland!” the woman whispered, raising a limp hand toward the towering shadow. “It’s really him! The one they calls The Ghost.”
Katherine had never heard of Ryland, The Ghost, but could guess by Daisy’s response that his presence there was not good news for them.
The large shadowy figure had gone perfectly still.
“Don’t ‘urt us,” pleaded Daisy.
The shadow flexed. “I’ve sworn off eating helpless little soiled doves,” he said.
“What do you want here?” Katherine whispered.
“It’s none of your concern. My business is with the mayor.”
It felt as if Katherine’s very life was seeping from her body onto the darkened street. Daisy was slumped beside her like a broken doll.
“Mayor?” Katherine’s voice was so squeaky and weak that Travis had to step forward to hear her, and it was with horror that Katherine learned she had no strength left to retreat. “You’re here to see the mayor?”
Ryland loomed closer, towering over her. She saw his face was bearded, and his eyes shone down from just below the rim of his hat.
“Do you know the mayor?” he asked, his voice slow, dramatically deep, and cautiously quiet.
“Know him?” Katherine asked, hoping to buy some time. “In what sense do you mean?”
She doggedly refused to allow her gaze to stray to the smiling corpse. Sweat had suddenly appeared on her shaky hands, and a quiver shook her voice. She didn’t want to die on a dusty street so far from home. Maybe she’d been all wrong about adventures. Right now her once thrilling dreams seemed frightful, terrible things that made her quake from the inside out.
“Do you know him?” repeated the stranger. “Biblically, or otherwise?”
Katherine’s mouth opened to respond but she could think of no clever lie.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t know the good mayor.”
“You didn’t know him?” The man took a step nearer. “You didn’t know him?”
“I mean…” Katherine failed again to back away, though Daisy had slipped behind her and was tugging weakly at her nightshift. “I mean… I don’t know him. I don’t!” She shook her head again. There’d be no need for him to shoot her. She was going to die of sheer fright right here on the spot.
The moon eased from behind a silver-gilded cloud, laughing at such human melodrama and casting just a glimmer of light on the deadly stranger. But the illumination gave Katherine no added hope, for his shoulders were double the width of her own, and his body looked huge and hard, awaiting action.
“You killed the
mayor?” he asked now, his voice still even. “You humped the mayor to death?”
Never in all her days had Katherine ever imagined she would hear such a question addressed to her. She’d been known to blush at the mention of a body part as innocent as an elbow.
Her mouth fell open, her lips moving hopelessly, her skin burning.
“Is the money in the bag?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“What money?” Katherine asked, but Ryland was already lifting the satchel from the dirt. “You can’t do that,” she said weakly, her sense of decency immediately offended. “It’s not yours.”
“He brought it for me,” countered Ryland darkly.
Katherine’s overdeveloped sense of fairness was absolutely affronted now, allowing her to raise her voice above a whisper. “How do you know it was meant for you? Perhaps it contains his personal…”
Daisy’s gasp stopped Katherine’s words. From the satchel the stranger had drawn a tidy stack of rectangular papers.
“Coo,” breathed Daisy as she peeked over Katherine’s shoulder. “‘E’s Ryland all right. But ‘e ain’t no ghost. Leastways, if ‘e is, I can’t tell. ‘E’s come t’ croak Delias fer stealin’ them miners’ wages, and there’s the bills t’ pay ‘im.”
Deftly Travis Ryland removed the bands of rubber to fan the papers then shifted his gaze to the women. “Where’s the rest?”
“The rest?” Katherine gulped, hearing the threat in his gravelly tone.
“I was promised a goodly sum,” said Ryland. “This…” He lifted the bundle. “This is only two bills at the ends of blank pieces of paper. And I’d like to know where the rest is.” He took a step toward them, and they stumbled back in unison, with Daisy’s small form pulling Katherine along.
“We don’t know anything about the money!” declared Katherine quickly.
“I want to know where it is,” exclaimed Ryland evenly. “I don’t mind killing Delias,” he said in a midnight voice, “but I expect to be well-paid for it.”
Katherine could feel her heart thumping against her ribs. “I don’t know anything about this. Honestly.”
“But you were the one who humped him to death,” he reasoned.
“No,” she wanted to scream. She’d never even met the mayor. Never laid eyes on him before an hour ago. But Daisy hadn’t taken the money. Katherine knew it in her soul. ‘That’s such a crude way to refer to it,” she said.
Silence.
“You’re the damnedest whore I’ve ever met.”
“I see no reason for you to be rude just because I’m…” Katherine sputtered, flapping her hands as she searched for the proper term.
“You’re the one who loved him?” Ryland asked abruptly, toning down his speech for the girl’s apparent sensibilities.
She’d hate to claim to have loved the man. Indeed, she’d never actually seen him alive. “Well he seemed like a nice enough gentleman, but I wouldn’t say I actually loved—”
“Goddamn it, woman, did you sleep with him or not?” Ryland gritted, stepping up close to her in one fluid motion.
Katherine’s jaw dropped. “Yes, I did,” she whispered faintly.
“Then he must have paid you.” The giant man was bent over her, growling into her face. “Did he take the money from the satchel?”
“Pay?” Katherine squeaked. The moon had probed beneath the brim of his hat, faintly lighting his face. It was bearded and hard-looking.
“Did he pay you from the satchel?” he asked again, his voice dropping another notch.
“Ahh.” Katherine glanced over her shoulder at Daisy’s paled face. “Ummm…”
“Not till after,” Daisy squawked suddenly.
“What’s that?” asked Ryland.
“The gents—they pay after.”
Absolute stillness held the street, but suddenly Ryland grasped Katherine by the front of her nightshift, lifting her to her tiptoes. “That’s just as well,” he growled, “since you’d already taken far more than your share.” He shook her lightly, and she felt like an abused rag doll.
“I didn’t,” Katherine managed. “I promise you I didn’t.”
For a moment she was sure she would die, but his fist loosened as he settled her back to her feet.
“Ladies,” he said quietly. “I don’t mean to be unpleasant, but there’s a happy dead man lying in the street, a dead man who seems to be short about six thousand dollars.”
“But we didn’t take it,” Katherine breathed, to which Daisy shook her head in emphatic agreement.
“Then where might it be?”
“I wouldn’t know,” piped Katherine.
“Listen, ladies. I learned a few things a long time ago. The first is never to draw a gun when the sun’s in your eyes. The second is that generally folks are mostly understanding about murder in this sort of town.” He shifted his weight slightly and wiggled his gloved fingers near the butt of his holstered gun. “But take their money…” He shook his head slowly. “Take their money and they’ll hound you till you’re dead and damned. You catch my drift?”
No answer.
“Do you?” he snapped.
Katherine jumped, gasped, and shook her head.
“I’m saying the good folks of Silver Ridge scraped their money together to pay me to kill Delias,” Ryland explained patiently. “Now the money’s gone. The mayor’s dead and Delias ain’t. Who do you think they’re going to blame?”
“You?” Katherine guessed timidly.
“No.” He shook his head again, more slowly yet. “Not me. I’ve done enough deeds to damn me without taking credit for things I didn’t do.” He stood quietly for a moment, then dropped the stack of papers into the bag and tossed the thing to the ground. “Good luck, ladies,” he said, and turned away.
“Where’re you going?” Katherine gasped.
He stopped for a moment, looking over his shoulder. “Where does Thomas Grey live?”
“South side of town. On Aspen Street. Big white house with green shutters,” Daisy babbled.
He turned again.
“Who’s Grey?” Katherine asked.
Travis didn’t answer, for his long strides were already taking him quickly down the darkened street.
“Thomas Grey,” Daisy whispered. “‘E’s a rich duffer. They say it was ‘is idea t’ ‘ire The Ghost. But I didn’t think they’d really dare. Not ‘im!” She nodded toward Travis’s broad retreating back. “‘E’s killed more men than the plague.” She shivered. “I didn’t think they’d get ‘im.”
Katherine’s mind spun. If there had indeed been more money in the satchel, someone would be accused of theft, and if Ryland convinced Grey he was innocent, she was likely to be accused.
“We can’t let him go,” she whispered.
“What?” breathed Daisy in shocked disbelief.
“If he tells Grey about this…” Katherine’s words quivered to a halt. “Wait!” she called to Travis.
“Miss Katherine,” gasped Daisy, gripping her arms from behind. “Are you off yer crumpet? What’re you thinkin’?”
“We have to convince him we’re innocent.”
“Convince The Ghost we’re innocent?” Daisy whispered dazedly.
“Don’t you see? If he tells Grey what he saw, it’ll seem as if we killed the mayor and took the money. We have to stop him. Wait!” she called a bit louder, stepping forward to follow Ryland, but Daisy now gripped her nightgown in a tenacious hold.
“No, Miss Katherine! Don’t go!” Her bare feet were planted on the outsides of Katherine’s as she was dragged along the dirt course. “No! ‘E’s a mindless killer. Kills just fer fun. Y’ make ‘im mad, ‘e’ll croak y’ without even blinking.”
“But we’re innocent.”
“I know we’s innocent, but let’s not be dead,” Daisy pleaded, dragging along behind. “Please, Miss Katherine. I got me some friends. We can ‘ide out in New Prospect. Work at the Red Garter till I make ‘nuf money t’ send you back east. Please, Miss Katherine.”
“But we’re innocent!” cried Katherine, and suddenly she broke free of Daisy ‘s grip and was sprinting down the street, her bare feet pattering like raindrops beneath the hem of her uplifted nightshift.
Chapter 3
“Wait!”
Ryland had already mounted his horse when she reached him.
“Wait,” she gasped, coming to a halt a safe distance from him. “Mr. Ryland. Please. I didn’t mean to kill him. And I didn’t take the money.”
“It’s not my problem, lady.” At his nudge the horse turned away.
Katherine watched him. What was she to do with a satchel of paper bills and a smiling corpse? “Mr. Ryland!” She scurried after him, running to keep up with his mount. “I tell you I didn’t do it.”
He refused to look down. “And I tell you it’s not my concern.”
“But…” She was panting slightly. The horse had begun to trot in long, smooth strides, and Katherine reached out, grasping Travis’s pant leg with desperate strength. “If he asks who killed the mayor, what will you tell him?”
“I might try the truth.”
“Then he’ll think I killed him. And he’ll think I took the money.”
“Better you than me, lady.” Ryland clicked to his mount, and Katherine’s grip tightened as panic overcame her.
“But I didn’t do it,” she yelled, desperate to convince him of her innocence.
“Life’s hard.” The horse shifted into a slow lope.
Katherine was running full tilt now, her night rail billowing behind her. “You can’t do this.”
His leg was pulled from her grasp, but desperation made Katherine clutch frantically for a new hold. Her fingers found his stirrup leather and wrapped tenaciously about the thing. Her legs pumped wildly, and she gasped for air. “I’m…” she rasped, but suddenly she stumbled, half falling beside the loping stallion, but refusing to loosen her grip as she was dragged along beside.“Oh! Oh!” she shrieked.
“Damn it, woman!” Travis gritted, hauling his mount to a sliding stop. “Who the devil are you?”
Katherine scrambled for footing then grappled her way up his leg, struggling to an upright position and drawing in shaky breaths. “Katherine.” She brushed away the wisps of midnight hair that had come loose from her braid and tried not to tremble. “Katherine Amelia Simmons.”