by Wesley Ellis
Jessie shrugged. “All I’m telling you is what my cousin, Billy Bonaday, told me yesterday. His father is in San Francisco and is seeking funds.”
Ford leaned forward. “I knew that. We watch him carefully. But I’ve heard nothing about the man having any luck whatsoever. And even if he did have . . .”
Jessie saw the man smile and change his incriminating line of thought. She knew with dead certainty that he had almost said that, even if Bonaday did find help, he wouldn’t have lived to return to Reno.
“And even if he did have,” Ford continued, “it wouldn’t matter. The man is already ruined and he doesn’t know it yet. Besides, if you really are his niece, why aren’t you over there trying to help the man?”
Jessie had anticipated this question. “He and the rest of the family never forgave my mother for having me illegitimately.”
Ford blinked with surprise.
“Are you shocked at my candor?”
“Yeah, I am,” he admitted. “It takes guts to admit you’re a bastard. Or does that word just apply to men born without fathers?”
“It applies to either sex, Mr. Ford,” she said coldly. “And is used most cruelly in any case.”
Her anger had the desired effect. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to see how tough you really are. So you hate your uncle, huh?”
She nodded. “And after being thrown out of the Bonaday offices yesterday, I haven’t much use for my handsome cousin.”
“He threw you out?”
“He did.”
“You must have really said something wrong. He’s a womanizer. Someone like you . . . well, he would normally have tried to get you into the sack right away.”
“I’m his cousin.”
“You’re a damned good-looking hunk of woman,” Ford corrected. “Cousin or not, it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference to Billy. His brains are all below his belt buckle.”
Jessie said nothing. The assessment was probably true and there was no sense in denying it. Billy had an animal attraction about him and Jessie figured that most women would oblige him in any way he wanted.
“What did you do to make him so mad?”
“I asked for money or a job.”
“So, you’re down on your luck, is that it?”
“I’m not ready to hustle for money, if that’s what you mean, Mr. Ford. But neither have I a savings account at the local bank.”
He grinned with amusement and pulled a cigar out of his top desk drawer. He lit it and kept grinning as his lips sucked at the cigar and then formed his next words. “I like you, Vickie. You strike me as a no-bullshit broad. A woman who’s hungry, but not desperate enough to be a whore. Tell me the truth, do you really know a damn thing about record-keeping, or was that all just smoke to impress Bakemore?”
“I know record-keeping,” Jessie said. “Inside and outside. Frontward and backward.”
“And you want to help us destroy Bonaday?”
“Crush him, Mr. Ford. Crush and humiliate the man for what he did to my poor dear mother, God rest her soul.”
“Are you a woman who can keep her mouth shut?”
“Try me.”
He stared at her as he would have at a shrewd competitor, not caring that she was also beautiful. “All right,” he said finally. “I will.”
Chapter 5
Ki and Daniel Bonaday were delayed for five days by the heavy snowstorms that pounded the Sierras. Seventeen miles of snowsheds collapsed under some of the largest avalanches in recorded history. The Central Pacific Railroad sent hundreds of men up to clear the tracks. Men in tandem with the huge snowplows pushed by teams of locomotives finally broke through the snow. The telegraph wires between Sacramento and Reno hummed with the good news that the trains could start running again on schedule.
That same morning, Lee Ford sent Jessie a message to come to his office at once. When she walked in, Peter Bakemore again rushed to greet her, but Ford was there to intercept her and usher her into his office.
“Something unexpected has taken place,” he said, his small eyes studying her carefully. “I have not been able to reach two of my employees who should have been on the train that’s due here this afternoon.”
Jessie nodded. He was talking about the pair of assassins. No doubt he had been frantically trying to contact them to learn if there was any truth to the story that Jessie had given him about Bonaday getting financial help.
“How does their absence affect me, Mr. Ford?”
“I’m not sure. But let us suppose that, instead of my men arriving as planned, off the train should step none other than Daniel Bonaday and a friend. A rich friend.”
“All right. Suppose they do. So what?”
Lee Ford bent forward. “I want you to be at the train station to meet them—if they arrive. Try to learn as much as you can. If Bonaday really has been successful in attracting an investor—and one would have to be crazy to buy into his game—then I want to know as much about him as you can find out.”
“You want me to spy on him?”
“Exactly,” a voice said. It was followed by the appearance of a man Jessie had never seen before. He had been in the next office listening to them. He was tall, extremely good-looking, and in his early forties. His long black hair was edged with silver around his temples. He had dark eyes and a lush mustache. He was lean and athletic and possessed one of the finest smiles of any man Jessie had ever seen. He studied her very closely. “Are you willing to be our spy, Miss Vickie Wilson?”
She stood up. “Who are you?”
He extended his hand with an amused smile on his lips. “My name is Orin Grayson. Assemblyman Grayson. I’m in the state assembly, but I consider myself more of a businessman than a politician. It’s an honor to meet you. Lee has told me you are quite a woman. I can see at a glance he has not exaggerated your ... assets, Miss Wilson.”
She felt heat rise in her cheeks as his eyes casually undressed her. “Thank you.” Jessie took his hand and when he held it in his, she could almost feel an electricity in his touch.
The man had a powerful attraction. She wondered if he was the one behind the plot to ruin Bonaday. As a politician and businessman, he might be rich and influential enough to be the power behind the Sierra Stage Line.
“May I call you Vickie? You may call me Orin.”
“Of course, Orin.” Jessie pulled her hand away and smiled. “I’ll be happy to meet my uncle if he is on the train, and then to tell you everything I can discover about his recent trip.”
“That would be a big help.” Orin frowned. “You see, Vickie, Mr. Bonaday is a very narrow-minded and opinionated man. I should tell you right now that he hates me and this company because we are more efficient and better run than his operation. Also, I have been seeing his daughter, Miss Roxy Bonaday, and he strongly disapproves.”
Jessie nodded. She remembered now that Bonaday had mentioned that his headstrong young daughter was seeing a man he considered his enemy.
“Roxy and I are . . . well, little more than very good friends. She understands that business is business. I had hoped that she might influence her father to sell out to us before he is completely ruined. But I realize now he won’t do that. Stubborn pride is the downfall of so many men. Better by far if he had sold out when he had the chance and reaped at least some small reward.”
“Has Miss Bonaday tried to talk him into selling out to you?”
“Of course. Roxy is an intelligent girl. She can see the handwriting on the wall and doesn’t want to see her father walk away with nothing.”
“And what about the son, Billy?”
Orin and Lee Ford both scoffed. “Billy is a strutting peacock, a man who cares for very little except women, wine, and song. He plays a bad hand of poker and, though he does have a dangerously quick temper, he doesn’t concern us in the least.”
“Mr. Bonaday might not be willing to talk to me any more readily than his son. Especially if Billy tells him how he ran me off.”
“Don’t worry about Billy,” Lee Ford said. “A very talented woman up in Room 205 of the Pine Tree Hotel will make sure that Billy doesn’t know or even care that his father has finally returned.”
“I see.” Jessie nodded. “All right. I will try my best. But I do want to know what I am to receive in return for this unusual request.”
Lee Ford clapped his fat hands together in appreciation. “See, Orin!” he exclaimed proudly. “I told you she had her feet on the ground and her hand reaching for someone’s pocket. The lady wants to know what we’ll pay her.”
Orin nodded. “I like to be very honest in my dealings with people,” he said. “You have every right to know that you will be amply repaid for your trouble. If Daniel Bonaday is on that train and has a prospective investor, and if you help us by finding out all you can, then I will see that you are paid one hundred dollars tonight.”
“One hundred dollars?” Jessie shook her head and acted immensely impressed. “Why, that’s more than most accountants receive in two months.”
Ford said, “It’s more than Bakemore gets in three months, but I don’t have to tell you that our dealings are hush-hush.”
Orin nodded. “Yes. Poor Bakemore already feels underpaid and overworked. And he is! But the man is a weakling and hasn’t the courage to demand what is fair. Somehow, Vickie, I have the feeling that you are a woman who will demand everything you have coming, and then some.”
Jessie smiled. “You’re right,” she said sweetly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave and get ready to meet that train.”
Orin stepped aside just enough for her to squeeze past him into the hallway. “Vickie, why don’t you come by here after dark and tell me what you have learned.”
“But what if Mr. Bonaday isn’t on the train.”
“Come by anyway,” Orin Grayson said. “In case something terrible should ever happen to Daniel Bonaday, we can discuss how you could best help us to break young Billy. For a woman like you, that would be as easy as taking candy from an overgrown baby.”
Jessie nodded and slipped past them. On her way out of the Sierra Stage Line offices, the head accountant waved meekly to her and whispered, “I’m doing everything in my power to get you a position as my assistant, Miss Wilson. How did the interview go in there?”
Jessie thought for a moment about how she was expected to meet Orin Grayson tonight in this very office. “It is to be continued this evening,” she said to the accountant.
He beamed. “Excellent! That’s wonderful news. Mr. Grayson must have really been impressed with you.”
“Yes,” she said, her mind swirling as she left the room, “I think he was.”
Jessie stood waiting at the station while the train ground to a ponderous halt. Jessie saw families eagerly awaiting to be reunited and, as always, it reminded her that, except for Ki, she really had no family. Many friends, yes, but she was the only living Starbuck. Someday, she might settle down and marry, have children, and begin to let someone else gradually assume control of the Starbuck empire. But she was in no hurry—she was still a young woman.
Jessie happened to turn around and see a man watching her. This confirmed her suspicion that either Orin Grayson or Lee Ford had sent someone to observe her meeting with Daniel Bonaday. They were supposed to be strangers, uncle and niece meeting for the very first time. If Bonaday displayed any familiarity with her, Jessie knew that her fabricated story would be shot full of holes.
But how was she to warn Ki or Bonaday not to betray her when they disembarked? Jessie saw a shoeshine boy and hurried over to him.
“Do you know Mr. Daniel Bonaday on sight?” she asked. “Big man with—”
“Sure I know him,” the kid said. “He owns that old, run-down stage line.”
“Better not say that to him.” Jessie scribbled a quick, warning note to Bonaday that read: You and Ki pretend we are strangers. JS. Then she handed the note to the boy along with a dollar and sent him racing to the first-class coach, which was starting to unload.
The Sierra Stage Line spy betrayed no change in expression. Jessie knew she had outsmarted them. Supposedly having never met Bonaday, she would need someone like the shoeshine boy to seek him out, so the note had been a very natural tool to use. Ki, of course, would destroy it, and the two would be forewarned.
Bonaday stepped off the train first. His eyes searched for Jessie in the crowd. Ki appeared next and Jessie almost failed to recognize him. He was dressed in a very handsomely cut business suit with conventional shoes, a tie, and a stylish Stetson hat. His long black hair, however, was braided into a queue that hung, down his back. No one would have suspected he was anything but exactly what he appeared to be: a rich young businessman of mixed Oriental and European ancestry.
Ki saw Jessie first, but his eyes flicked over her and displayed no recognition. Only Jessie could read the fleeting smile, the touch of relief and joy he felt at seeing her alive and well again.
The shoeshine boy waved and pointed at Bonaday, and Jessie moved forward through the throng of passengers and greeters to join him. The spy also pushed forward, but Jessie had too large a lead on the man and the first thing she whispered to Bonaday and Ki was, “We are being watched and closely followed. Help me get you where we can talk privately.”
Ki nodded and his eyes instantly picked out the man who was shadowing Jessie. For a moment he considered atemi, the use of pressure points located primarily in the head, neck, and shoulder areas, by which a man skilled in their application could instantly render an opponent unconscious. But that would create more problems than it would solve. Ki scolded himself inwardly for forgetting that he was supposed to be a rich young businessman—a financial, but certainly not a physical threat to anyone.
Bonaday signaled one of the number of men and boys who operated buggies to earn a few dollars whenever a train arrived. They were lucky enough to get a surrey driven by a young man named Dusty who Bonaday knew quite well. “Dusty, help us grab up Mr. Chen Ling’s and my baggage and then get us out of here.”
“Where to? Your offices?”
“Yeah,” Bonaday said, “at least that’s the direction you can start off in.”
“Yes, sir!”
A few minutes later they were in the surrey and heading up South Virginia Street. They said nothing until Jessie looked back and saw they had lost the man who had been shadowing them. Still, Jessie knew they could not talk freely with Dusty just an arm’s length away.
Evidently the same thought occurred to Bonaday. “Why don’t we get out and walk the rest of the way? Dusty, you go ahead and deliver our bags at my office,” he said, giving the boy two nickels—all the money he had in his pockets.
Jessie shook her head to realize the man who had once owned a fleet of sailing ships was now completely broke. “Here, Dusty,” she said, handing the boy two dollars. “And thanks for the help.”
“Yes, ma‘am! Thank you!”
He drove off then just as happy as could be.
They hopped out and strolled along the busy street. When they reached the Truckee River, they angled along the riverfront and found a private hiding place in the trees.
Jessie saw the man sent to shadow her go racing over the bridge looking about wildly for her, Bonaday, and Ki. “We can talk now.” She touched Ki’s cheek affectionately. “It’s a relief to see you again.”
“And you,” he said. “I was worried, Jessie. Sitting around in Sacramento knowing that you were over here in the lions’ den, so to speak, wasn’t easy.”
“I’m fine. I’ve even got a job with your competitor, Dan.”
“Good work,” the older man said roughly. “What have you found out so far?”
“Not much. Learning about you and Ki is really my first job.”
Bonaday’s mouth dropped open. “You mean we just got rid of two goddamn spies and you’re another one?”
“Yes,” Jessie answered defiantly. “But have you forgotten whose side I am really on?”
H
e toed the ground with his boot, then picked up a flat rock near the riverbank and sent it skipping across the water. “Six jumps! Goddamn it, used to be I never got less than seven. Age’ll be the death of me if Billy and Roxy ain’t first.”
“Dan,” Ki said patiently, “we haven’t much time to talk. Come back here in the trees and let’s find out what Jessie is up to.”
Jessie explained everything that had happened from her first meeting with the Sierra Stage Line accountant to her meeting with Lee Ford and then Orin Grayson.
At the mention of the latter man’s name, Bonaday flushed with anger. “That sonofabitch is damn near old enough to be Roxy’s father! I should have shot him years ago.”
“And gone to the gallows?” Jessie asked. “That wouldn’t have been very smart. The man is a state assemblyman. You and the Bonaday line would have been crucified.”
“Do you think he’s the money behind them?” Ki asked.
“No,” Jessie said pensively, “at least, not all of it. I’m hoping that I’ll find out a lot more after seeing their books.”
“They’ve gotta be losing a pile of money every single day,” Bonaday said. “New coaches, new harness, and all that office space and prime land. They’ve cut prices so low that we lose on every mile we carry a passenger.”
“Grayson told me he tried to buy you out.”
“Yeah, at ten cents on the dollar. I told him and Lee Ford where to stick their offer. I’d rather go down fighting and have nothing than knuckle under meekly and crawl out of Reno. You know just as soon as I leave the Sierra Stage Line will double its fares. They’ll make people wish to God they’d helped me keep some competition along these mountains. Anybody new tries to move in, they’ll be burned and run out. Grayson, Ford, and whoever else he has behind him are going to bleed the people of Reno, Carson City, and the little towns all the way south to Bishop. Be a damn shame.”
Ki asked, “Did you tell them about me?”
“I only hinted. I have to report to Grayson this evening on who you are and how much money you can pump into the Bonaday operation.”