Old?
She got through the entire list before Cooper pointed to a girl.
“That one.”
She was blond, in her thirties, older than the others. Cooper decided he would have felt silly picking one of the young ones.
“Ah,” Polly said. “The one thing I didn’t ask about—experience. Yes, Jill is one of our most experienced girls. She knows things none of the others know. Jill, would you take the gentleman up to your room and show him a good time, please?”
“Of course,” Jill said, coming forward and taking Cooper’s hand. She had large, round breasts, and Cooper could plainly see them through her gauzy top. She was not as slender as most of the other girls, but that worked in her favor, as far as Cooper was concerned. He liked women with some extra flesh on them.
As she led the way up the stairs, he smelled her perfume and watched her fleshy buttocks twitch in front of him and was happy to feel something stirring. Apparently, his friend John Locke was right. He wasn’t dead.
Lotus took Bob Bailey to room number three. After they entered, she said, “Put money on the dresser, prease?”
Bailey dug the bills out of his pocket and put them on the table, all crumpled.
“Now you sit,” she said. “I wash.”
He thought she meant she was going to wash herself, but she took off his shoes and his trousers and his underwear wear and proceeded to use a wash cloth and basin to wash him. By the time she was done, he was erect and almost ready to pop.
“You very big,” she said, stroking him.
“Jesus,” he said, and closed his eyes …
Jill took Dale Cooper to room number four.
“Could you please put the money on the table?” she asked. “I like to get that out of the way first.”
“Sure,” he said.
He took the bills from his pocket, smoothed them out, and put them on the dresser.
“Now, if you’ll remove your clothes, I can wash you,” she said. “We like to make sure our customers are clean.”
“Sure, sure,” he said, “I understand.”
He pulled off his boots, then stood up to remove his trousers and long underwear, almost tripping in the process.
“Hey,” she said, bringing a basin of water and a cloth over to the bed. “Are you nervous, handsome?”
“A little,” he admitted, sitting on the bed.
“Don’t be,” she said, getting on her knees in front of him. “Everything will be fine.”
She used the cloth to wash him, and by the time she was done, he was happy to see that he was still capable.
“Now,” she said, sitting back on her heels and letting her nightie fall from her shoulders. Her breasts were big and firm, with pale, smooth skin and pink nipples. “What would you like? Do you like French, or would you prefer straight fucking?”
“Uh, I’m not sure what that means, French,” he admitted.
“Well,” she said, leaning forward and sliding her hands up his thighs, “let me show you …”
“Is okay,” Lotus said to an embarrassed Bob Bailey. “It happens to many men.”
Bailey was getting dressed and was inconsolable. He hadn’t even gotten the Chinese girl on the bed. He was convinced that she’d teased him with the washing and had gotten him to the point where he couldn’t stop himself. His embarrassment was quickly turning to anger.
“Just forget it,” he snapped.
“Come, you stay,” she said, reaching for him. “Next time, you last longer, I promise.”
“Ain’t gonna be a next time,” he said. “Not with you.” He walked to the dresser and grabbed his money.
“Hey,” she said, dropping her accent. “My money!”
He glared at her and said, “You talk real English!”
“You can’t take my money!”
“I oughta take some of your hide, girl,” he said. “Yer nothin’ but a damn tease.”
“Hey,” she said. “You got your nut—don’t you hit me!”
She shrank back from him.
“I ain’t gonna waste no time hittin’ you,” he said, stuffing his money back into his pocket.
But as he turned to head for the door, she overcame her fear and gave in to her own anger at losing her money and jumped on his back.
“Bitch!” he shouted. He tried to get her off, and when he couldn’t, he rushed backward until he slammed her into the wall between rooms three and four.
Cooper was right in the middle of learning what French meant when there was a loud thud on the wall, and then a woman began screaming for help.
“What the—” he said.
Jill released him and said, “That’s Lotus’s room.”
The screaming and banging were becoming more and more intense, until it sounded as if they were going to crash through the wall.
“Somebody’s gotta help her!” Jill said, jumping to her feet and running for the door.
“Damn!” Cooper said. The place must have had a bouncer, but it might take him time to get up the stairs. His long johns were pooled at his feet, so he pulled them on, grabbed his gun, and ran out the door after Jill.
THIRTY-ONE
Locke saw the lawman walking purposefully toward the hotel and wondered if he was once again coming to see him.
“You wanna come with me?” Sheriff Maddox asked.
“Why?”
“When I told you boys to stay out of trouble, I thought it would be you I’d have to deal with.”
Locke stood up. “What are you talking about?”
“Your partner got himself into trouble over at Pretty Polly’s,” Maddox said. “Our local cathouse.”
“Where is he now?”
“In a cell. You comin’?”
Locke stepped down off the boardwalk and followed the sheriff to his office.
“You ever heard of French?” Cooper asked.
“What?”
“You know,” Cooper said. “French.”
“You mean, like … the language?”
“No,” Cooper said. “I mean what a whore does to you. They call it French, or Frenchin’.”
“No, Coop,” Locke said. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“You should try it,” Cooper said. “It’s really nice.”
“Is that what this is about?” Locke asked him through the bars. “Some whore Frenching you?”
“No,” Cooper said. “It’s about what happened that interrupted her while she was … doin’ it to me.”
“I guess you’re gonna have to explain this to me.”
At that moment, though, Sheriff Maddox came walking into the cell block with his keys.
“You’re free to go, Cooper.”
“What?” Locke asked.
He stepped back from the cell so Maddox could unlock the door. They both followed him into his office, where he laid Cooper’s hat and gun and gun belt on his desk.
“Polly ain’t pressin’ charges, and neither is the man you cold-cocked. In fact, Polly says to tell you that you got a freebie comin’.”
“Damn right, I should have,” Cooper said, collecting his belongings, “since I didn’t even get what I paid for.”
“Who did he cold-cock?”
“Some cowboy who was havin’ a dispute with his whore.”
“Don’t they have bouncers for that?” Locke asked, looking at Cooper.
“Sure they do, but my whore went runnin’ out the door,” he said. “I didn’t want nothin’ to happen to her.”
“So, what did happen?”
“I followed her into the next room and found her and the other whore both strugglin’ with this cowboy.”
“So?”
“So, I clubbed him with the butt of my gun. He went down, and somebody called the sheriff.”
“That sounds about right,” Maddox said.
“Then what was he doing in a locked cell in the first place?” Locke demanded.
“I had to get the story straight,” Maddox argued. “It didn’t do him
no harm to spend an hour in a cell.”
“And where’s the other fella?” Locke asked.
“He was at the doc’s. Cooper here opened up his skull some.”
“He was tryin’ to get out of the whorehouse without payin’,” Cooper said. “He was gonna hurt that girl.”
“That wasn’t your affair, Cooper,” Maddox said. “You ain’t a lawman anymore.”
Cooper grumbled and strapped on his gun.
“Come on, Coop,” Locke said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Down the street, Hoke Benson was leaving the doctor’s office with Bob Bailey.
“I can’t let you go anywhere without getting into trouble, can I?” he demanded.
“It wasn’t my fault!” Bailey whined. “That marshal clubbed me when I wasn’t lookin’. Why are you makin’ me drop the charges?”
“Because, moron,” Hoke said, “we need that marshal to be out of jail to collect the gold.”
“Well, with him in jail, Locke would have to get it himself, wouldn’t he?” Bailey asked.
“No,” Hoke said. “He’d get some help, somebody younger and in better shape than that old man. Jesus, it’s a good thing we don’t depend on you for any thinkin’!”
Hoke tapped Bailey’s head, and the man cried out. His hat was sitting funny on top of the bandage the doctor had applied after stitching him up.
“Jesus,” Hoke said. “You’re too stupid for words, Bob. Come on.”
“Where?”
“Back to the saloon, where at least I can keep an eye on you.”
On their way to the saloon, they saw Locke and Cooper coming out of the sheriff’s office.
“Don’t even look across the street,” Hoke warned Bailey. “I don’t want them getting a good look at us.”
Despite the warning, Bailey tossed a glare across at Dale Cooper, who returned it in kind.
“Aren’t those two of the men who were playing poker for matchsticks in Lucky Lil’s?” Locke asked.
“Huh?”
“Coop!”
Cooper pulled his gaze away from the man across the street and looked at Locke.
“The matchstick poker game,” Locke said again. “Is that them?”
“I think so,” Cooper said. “What if it is?”
“I don’t know,” Locke said. “They just seem to be sitting around killing time.”
“Like we are?” Cooper asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Locke said. “Just like we are.”
THIRTY-TWO
What are you sayin’?” Cooper asked. “That those matchstick-playin’ fools are after the gold?”
“Could be,” Locke said. “Do you remember seeing them in Turnback Creek?”
Cooper thought for a moment, then said, “Can’t say that I do. What about you?”
“I’m trying to,” Locke said.
“Maybe we better just keep an eye on them.”
“No,” Locke said. “Not when you’ve already had a run-in with one of them. Let’s just keep an eye out for them.”
“There could be dozens of men plannin’ to try for that gold, John,” Cooper said. “I don’t think that men who play poker for matchsticks are gonna be much of a danger.”
“You never know.”
They were in a café they found off the main street, having some dinner. Cooper was trying to shake off the feeling of being behind bars. He told Locke it had never happened before—not with the door locked—and he didn’t like it one bit.
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Cooper said.
“What’s that?”
“Anybody tryin’ to steal that gold better be ready to die,” the older man said, “ ’cause I ain’t gonna stand for it.”
“You sound like you’re taking this pretty personal, Coop.”
“I’m takin’ it damn personal.”
“Why is that?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you taking it so personally?” Locke asked again. “It’s not our gold.”
“Well … we’re bein’ paid to protect it and deliver it,” Cooper said. “That makes it more my gold than anybody who tries to steal it.”
Locke ate the last piece of his steak and pushed the plate away without finishing the vegetables.
“You not gonna eat those?” Cooper asked.
“No,” Locke said. “Some are soggy, and others are hard. I don’t know how they managed to overcook and undercook something at the same time.”
“I’ll take ’em.”
Cooper grabbed Locke’s plate and scraped it off onto his own.
“Looks like your appetite has come back,” Locke said.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Cooper said. “Maybe it’s got some-thin’ to do with bein’ in jail.”
“You think so?” Locke asked. “Could be, I guess.”
He watched his old friend demolish what was on his plate and then grab the last biscuit from the basket on the table. He sure didn’t look like a man with only whiskey on his mind.
Locke didn’t know what he was going to do after dinner. It was too early to turn in. Normally, he’d kill a lot of time in the saloon, nursing the one beer he drank a day and—if the place was large enough—watching some gambling. Might even go upstairs with some likely-looking saloon girl. But he was worried about what Cooper would do if he left him alone. While he didn’t look as if he was craving liquor at the moment, Locke knew for a fact that a craving like that could come on at any moment.
“So, what do we do now?” Cooper asked, pushing away his plate and touching his belly with satisfaction.
“I don’t know, Coop.”
“Oh, for Chrissake, John,” Cooper said. “Normally, you’d go to the saloon and have a beer after dinner, wouldn’t ya?”
“Well … yeah, I would.”
“Then go have one,” Cooper said. “ I’ll go back to the room and clean my guns or somethin’.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive … and don’t be thinkin’ I’m gonna sneak out to some other saloon,” the ex-marshal said. “I know I got to be straight for what we got to do here. Just don’t worry about me.”
“Okay,” Locke said. “I won’t. Maybe you can go on over to the whorehouse and get your freebie.”
As they got up and left the money on the table for their check, Cooper said, “I got in trouble once already goin’ over there. Think I’ll just do like I said and go back to the room.”
They left the café and stopped just outside.
“I think I’ll stop over at the train station before going to the saloon,” Locke said.
“I’ll see you back at the room, then.”
The two men parted company and went their separate ways. Locke hoped that Cooper would be true to his word and stay in the room. He decided not to spy on the man but to take him at his word and be done with it. As he walked over to the rail station, he tried to put his old friend’s drinking out of his head.
“They’re under way,” the clerk said as Locke entered the station. “That was the last word I got. They should be here sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s good news,” Locke said. Depending on how late in the afternoon, though, they still might have to spend another night in town. That night would be spent in the livery, guarding the gold.
Locke left the train station and headed over to Lucky Lil’s to have his beer.
THIRTY-THREE
Don’t look at him,” Hoke said to Bailey when Locke entered the saloon. “I don’t want it to look like we’re interested in him.”
The saloon was in full swing now, gaming tables uncovered, girls working the room, all the tables taken.
“It’s the other one I want,” Bailey said. “The old man.” He put his hand to his head, where his hat was still sitting askew atop the bandages.
“You’ll get your chance, Bob,” Hoke said. “Just be patient, and don’t pay Locke any mind. You got that, Eli?”
“I got it,” Eli said. “I raise ten matchstic
ks.”
As Locke entered, he noticed that the three men were still playing poker for matchsticks, while everyone else in the room who was gambling was doing so with real money. That made the three men an oddity, and they were drawing attention for it.
He walked to the bar, elbowed his way to it, and ordered his only beer for the day. Conversation on either side of him seemed to be about the men playing poker for matchsticks.
“They sure are concentratin’ like they was playin’ for real money,” someone said.
Locke noticed that they were concentrating very hard, especially the man with the bandage on his head. They had seen Locke with Cooper, and he wondered if the man Cooper had clubbed had orders not to look up.
Locke decided to see just how hard the men could continue to concentrate. He turned his back so he could nurse his beer and watch the three men at the same time.
“He’s starin’ at us,” Bailey said.
“So what?” Hoke said. “Let him stare. Everybody else is.”
“They’re starin’ ’cause of this bandage on my head.”
“You idiot,” Eli said. “They’re starin’ because we’re playin’ poker with matchsticks!”
“Look,” Hoke said impatiently. “It don’t matter why anybody is starin’. Just play your damn cards.”
“But what if he knows—” Bailey started.
“Knows what?” Hoke asked. “What could he know? That we’re waitin’ to steal the payroll? Hell, I bet there’s a dozen men in here makin’ plans for that payroll.”
“We ain’t gonna let nobody else take it, are we, Hoke?” Bailey asked anxiously.
“Nobody’s takin’ that payroll, Bob,” Hoke said. “It’s ours. Now, just play.”
“What the hell are they doin’?” Turpin asked Rome.
“They’re killin’ time, Roy,” Rome said. “That’s all.”
“Everybody’s lookin’ at them.”
“Yeah, well,” Rome said, “that’s their problem, ain’t it? You relax and drink your beer. Maybe take one of the girls upstairs. Don’t worry about what they’re doin’.”
Turnback Creek (Widowmaker) Page 9