“Is that a fact? Mister, you need to learn your place. I told you to . . . ,” Billings said angrily, going for his gun as he spoke.
As the gun was clearing the holster, Falcon grabbed Billings’s gun hand and jerked it up, using Billings’s own momentum against him. Billings hit himself in the mouth so hard that two of his teeth were knocked out, and the blood started oozing down his chin. He had been so caught by surprise that he didn’t even realize that Falcon had taken his pistol away from him, and was now aiming it at Billings.
“Now, I intend to have my drink in peace,” Falcon said. He removed the cylinder from Billings’s pistol, then leaned over and dropped the cylinder into a half-full spittoon.
“Why, you son of a bitch!” Billings shouted. Pulling a knife, he made a thrust toward Falcon. As adroitly as a matador dodging a bull, Falcon leaned to one side, then he reached to grab Billings’s knife hand, again using his momentum against him. The knife stabbed into the side of the bar, and Falcon grabbed Billings’s arm and twisted it around behind his back until Falcon heard the bone snap.
Billings let out a cry like a wounded bull, and he backed away from Falcon with his broken arm dangling in front of him. He stared at Falcon with unbridled hate in his eyes, but now, there was something else. There was also fear.
“I don’t know if a town like this has a doctor,” Falcon said. “But I expect you had better get that arm set, and pretty quick. Otherwise, you’ll probably never use it again. Oh, and about your spot at the bar? Now that I think about it, I don’t want it anyway. I’ll just take my beer over to a table and enjoy it in peace.”
“You low-assed bastard,” Billings mumbled.
“Now is that any way to talk?” Falcon asked. “There are some ladies in this room. I think you should apologize to them for your vulgarity.”
“What?”
“Your language. I think you should apologize for your language.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Billings asked. “There ain’t no ladies in here. They’re all whores, ever’ one of ’em. Do you think they ain’t never heard language like that before?”
“I said, apologize to the ladies,” Falcon repeated. “Unless you want me to break your other arm.”
“No, no, don’t do that,” Billings said, and, as a natural reaction, he tried to lift his broken arm, but the pain stopped him.
He stared at Falcon “I . . . I apologize,” he said.
“Don’t apologize to me, I’ve heard language like that before. I’m telling you to apologize to the ladies.”
“To the ladies.”
“Look at them so they know you are sincere.”
Billings looked at the three bar girls, all of whom were watching in shock at what they had just seen. “I apologize to you whor . . . uh, ladies, for my language,” he said.
“Very good. Now, I suggest that you go get that arm looked after. Really, you don’t want to lose the ability to use it entirely, do you?”
About that time a man came in through the batwing doors, wearing a star on his shirt.
“Mickey, how about a drink for the law?” he said, starting toward the bar. Then he stopped when he saw Billings standing there with one arm dangling down in front of him. “What the hell happened here?”
“Tell Marshal Moss, Billings,” the bartender said.
Billings glared at the bartender, but said nothing.
“Billings started haranguing this stranger the way he does with ever’ new man that comes in,” the bartender said. “Only, this feller decided he wasn’t goin’ to take it.”
“Damn, Billings, looks to me like you better go get Doc Lane to patch you up.”
“How drunk is the doc?” Mickey asked.
“What difference does it make?” Moss replied. “I’ve seen him pull a bullet out of someone when he was so drunk he couldn’t stand.”
Moss walked over to Falcon. “What’s your name?”
“What does it matter?” Falcon asked.
“I guess you’re right, it don’t matter none,” Moss said. “But try ’n stay out of trouble in my town.”
“Yeah, I am going to try and do that,” Falcon said.
Falcon took his beer over to an empty table and sat there, listening to the many conversations to see if anyone mentioned Mary Kate. He didn’t hear her name, but he did hear Ackerman’s name.
“I wouldn’t join up with Ackerman no matter how much his men are getting. If I wanted to be in the army, I’d join the army.”
“Hell, he wouldn’t take you anyway, Meb. You’re dumber than a rock, ever’ body knows that.”
“I ain’t that dumb,” Meb said.
“What kind of name is Meb anyway? I can see maybe someone changing their name when they come here, but Meb?”
“My real name is Webb. But when I went on the run, I just turned the W upside down.” Meb smiled, showing a mouth full of broken and misshaped teeth. “So, who’s dumb now?”
Falcon stayed at the saloon until eleven, not getting into any conversations, just listening. But except for that one mention of Ackerman, he heard nothing else of interest. And even that mention didn’t tell him that Ackerman was here.
When Falcon walked out into the street, Matthew was already there.
“Where’s Morgan?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t . . . oh, here he comes now.”
“Did either of you hear anything we can use?” Falcon asked.
“I saw Ackerman,” Morgan said. “He’s in the Bloody Bucket, all dressed up in an army uniform looking like a dandy.”
“Uniform? What’s he doin’ in a uniform? I thought he was out of the army,” Matthew said.
“How do you know it was Ackerman?” Falcon asked.
“I heard people talking to him. He was holding court, like he was the mayor of the town, or something.”
“Well, he damn near is,” Matthew said. “The folks in the Rattlesnake Den were all talking about how he runs the town. I guess when you have a private army, you are king of the roost no matter where you are.”
“There’s a hotel in this town,” Falcon said. “What do you say we get a good night’s sleep and start fresh in the morning?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
When Falcon awoke the next morning, something didn’t seem quite right. Then he realized what it was. In nearly every Western town Falcon had ever visited, the night sounds were of revelry; laughter, music, raucous conversation, and shouts of anger. There was gunfire as well, but most of the time the guns were discharged in fun, though sometimes in deadly seriousness. In that, Purgatory was no different from any other Western town. It was the daytime that was different.
In the daytime most towns replaced the nighttime sounds of revelry with the sounds of commerce; a blacksmith’s hammer, the clump of hoofbeats, and the rolling of wagon wheels, the morning greetings and the conversation of men and women going about their daily routine.
Not so here. As Falcon lay in bed with the morning sunlight streaming in through the window, he was hearing none of that. Purgatory was strangely quiet, as if the entire town was still in bed, sleeping off the previous night’s revelry.
He heard a knock on the door. “You awake?” It was Morgan’s voice.
“Yeah,” Falcon said. He got out of bed, then padded barefooted over to open the door. “Thanks for not calling out my name.”
“I can’t remember your name,” Morgan said with a grin.
“That’s ’cause you’re old and senile,” Falcon replied. “Let’s get breakfast. There must be a place to eat in this town.”
“I saw it last night,” Morgan said. “Annie’s Café.”
Mary Kate spent the night in a room at the House of Pleasure. And even though she was in such a place, it was the first night of real rest she had had since she was kidnapped. She had slept in a real bed, and there was nobody watching over her. When she awoke, it was full daylight, but she heard no sounds in the house. When she got out of bed, she thought about putting her jeans and sh
irt back on, but realized that Peggy and Gladys were probably correct, it would be best if she put on that . . . whatever it was called . . . thing they had dressed her in last night.
Once dressed, she went downstairs where she saw two more women dressed and made up exactly as she was. Both of them looked at her with surprise.
“Who are you?” one of them asked.
“And where did you come from?” the other asked.
Mary Kate wasn’t sure how to answer, but at that moment Gladys came into the room and took care of it for her.
“Tina, Dorothy, this is Belle,” Gladys said. “She arrived last night. Bless her heart, she was about to be put in jail down in Laramie for giving some soldier boy at the fort the doxy’s disease.”
“The doxy’s disease?” Tina said, drawing back from her.
“Well, she says it wasn’t her, and I believe her. But I’m not going to actually put her on the line for two weeks while we see if she has it or not.”
Dorothy smiled and stuck out her hand. “Don’t worry about it, honey,” she said. “They accused me of the same thing in Helena, and they were going to put me in jail. I didn’t have it. The funny thing, I know who it was, and they didn’t do nothin’ to her. By now she’s probably give it to half a dozen men, or more.”
“Come have breakfast with us,” Tina invited.
“Thank you,” Mary Kate said.
Mary Kate followed the two girls into the dining room where she was introduced to four others.
“Oh, she’s too pretty, she’ll take all the business away from us,” one of the others said, but there was no rancor in her comment.”
“Not for a while,” Dorothy said. “Gladys wants to hold her off the line ’til she’s sure she’s clean.”
“Oh, yes, well, that’s good.”
“Anyhow, Liz, what does pretty have to do with it?” Tina asked. “Most of the men who come here are so drunk they can’t tell one of us from another.”
“Unless they wind up with Hector,” another girl said, and they all laughed. They were still laughing when Hector came to the breakfast table.
“Did I just hear my name uttered in vain?” Hector asked.
“Hector, girl, we would never say your name in vain,” Liz said.
“Well, I would certainly hope not,” Hector minced.
It did not escape Mary Kate’s notice that Liz had referred to Hector as “girl,” nor did she fail to notice that he made no reaction to it.
A short, skinny, black man came into the dining room pushing a cart on which were several bowls and platters of food, including scrambled eggs, bacon, and stacks of pancakes.
“Oh, Black Lib, it looks wonderful,” Dorothy said.
“Black Lib?”
“His real name is Black Liberty. He was born just after the Emancipation Proclamation, so that was what his mama named him,” Dorothy explained. “But we just call him Black Lib. He’s our cook, and he’s the best cook in town.”
Black Lib put the plates on the buffet, and the girls started moving through the line, filling their plates.
“Why are you living in Purgatory?” Mary Kate asked, just as she spooned on some scrambled eggs.
“Oh, I was cookin’ for a minin’ camp, and some of the men started to funnin’ me, only it wasn’t fun for me. So I poisoned them. I put arsenic in the scrambled eggs.”
“What?” Mary Kate said.
Black Lib and the others laughed.
“Don’t listen to him, he tells that story to every new girl that comes in here,” Liz said. “He did kill one of the miners, but he shot him, he didn’t poison him.”
“So unless you see him come in here with a gun, you don’t have to worry,” Dorothy added.
Mary Kate laughed this time, and as she sat down to eat, a cat came in and jumped up on her lap.
“Oh!”
“That’s Mr. Trouble,” Dorothy said. “He’s just checking you out.”
Mary Kate began petting the cat. “Whose cat is he?”
“Oh, you don’t own cats,” Dorothy said. “They just sort of hang around wherever they want to be.”
Satisfied with her inspection, Mr. Trouble jumped down, then went over to eat his breakfast. Mary Kate looked around the table and felt strangely connected to the other girls.
Moss had spent the night with one of the girls at the Bloody Bucket. He went downstairs where he stuck his hand down into one jar of vinegar to retrieve a hard-boiled egg, then in the other jar of vinegar to pull out a pickled pig’s foot.
“Want ’nything to drink this mornin’, Marshal?” Bart asked.
“You got ’ny coffee made?”
“Yeah, I’ll bring you a cup.”
Moss sat at a table next to the stove to have his breakfast. It was not cold enough for the stove to be used, but the faint aroma of burnt wood, a residue from its last use, wrapped a cloud around it. He was halfway through his second pickled pig’s foot when he remembered that he had a prisoner who would need feeding.
Returning to the bar, he again stuck his hand down into each of the two big jars and, with vinegar dripping from the fingers that clutched the two breakfast items, he left the saloon and walked back to the marshal’s office.
“All right, girlie, I’ve got your breakfast here,” he called as he opened the door into the back. “Are you awake back there?”
Moss walked to the end of the corridor and saw what he thought was his prisoner asleep.
“Wake up,” he called.
When there was no movement he looked more closely and saw that she wasn’t there. He pulled on the cell door, but it was locked.
“I’ll be damned,” he said aloud. “How the hell did you get out of there?”
There was a small house alongside the barracks. This was the commandant’s quarters, and like the house he had rented outside Feely, this was made up like a post headquarters, complete with desk, wall map, and, unlike his rented house in Feely, in this case, he also had a flag standing in a brass holder.
When he awakened this morning he put on his uniform, choosing this time the undress uniform with shoulder boards, rather than the formal uniform with epaulets and gold fringe. He strapped on his pistol, then examined his image in the mirror. He saluted his image, then stepped outside. That was when he saw Moss walking quickly toward him.
“Good morning, Marshal Moss.”
“She’s gone, Major,” Moss said.
“She’s gone? Who’s gone?”
“The woman you had me put in jail yesterday.”
“What?” Ackerman shouted angrily. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”
“I mean she’s gone,” Moss said. “When I looked into her cell this mornin’, she wasn’t there.”
“Well, when did she leave?”
“I don’t know. Like I say, I didn’t even notice that she was gone ’til this mornin’ when I went back to take her some breakfast. At first I thought she was in bed, ’cause I seen somethin’ under the blanket. But then I seen it was just another mattress from one of the other cells.”
“Did you leave the cell door unlocked?”
“No, I didn’t leave it unlocked. As a matter of fact, it was still locked this mornin’.”
“Well, if it was locked, how the hell did she get out?”
“I don’t know, Major. I had her locked up, and like I said, the cell door was still locked this mornin’.”
“There’s something fishy about this.”
“Yes, sir, there purely is, ’cause I don’t have the slightest idea how she could have got out of that jail like she done.”
“Bugler!” Ackerman shouted. “Bugler, report!”
A minute later Powell, still not fully dressed, came running from the barracks.
“Yes, sir?”
“Sound ‘Recall’!”
“Here, sir? In town?”
“Yes, here in town! I have no idea where everyone is, but I want them here!”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you,
Moss, that woman is worth a lot of money to me, and I’m telling you now, if we don’t find her, you are going to answer to me. And it isn’t going to be pleasant.”
The bugler began playing “Recall.”
“Damn!” Smith said to Waters. “Is that ‘Recall’?”
“Yeah, what’s he playin’ it in the middle of town for?”
“I don’t know, but I expect we’d better go see what it’s about.”
Corporal Jones was also away from the barracks when “Recall” was sounded. He was still in bed, having spent the night with one of the whores at the Pig Palace. He groaned when he heard the music.
“What’s that fella playing the bugle for?” the woman in bed with him asked.
“I don’t know,” Jones said. “But if he’s just drunk an’ doin’ it on his own, I’ll make him eat that damn thing.”
At Annie’s Café, Falcon, Morgan, and Matthew were sitting at a table when they heard the bugle.
“That’s a bugle,” Morgan said. “What’s that he’s playing, do either of you know?”
“He’s sounding ‘Recall,’” Falcon said.
“What for?”
“I expect that Ackerman is calling all his men together for some reason.”
At that moment, Annie approached with a pad in her hand.
“Good morning, gentlemen, and welcome to my café. I don’t believe I’ve seen you boys in here before, have I?”
“No ma’am, you haven’t,” Falcon said.
“You called me ma’am. How sweet,” Annie said with a broad smile. “Now, what’ll it be?”
“Do you have any flapjacks?” Matthew asked.
“I certainly do. I have the best you ever tasted,” Annie replied.
“I’ll take half a dozen flapjacks,” Matthew said.
“Half a dozen? My, you must like flapjacks. All right, half a dozen flapjacks.”
“Half a dozen pieces of bacon, and half a dozen sausage patties,” Matthew added.
“Oh, I see. You are ordering for all of you, aren’t you?” Annie said. She chuckled. “You had me going for a moment.”
“Better bring me half a dozen eggs, over easy, and some fried potatoes,” Matthew said. “And, do you have any gravy?”
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