“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
Rogers looked intently at her for a second, then nodded. “Fine,” he said, his voice curt. “On one condition. You pay for those drinks. You were the one who ran off with that loot back in Kansas, after all. I’m sure it’s long gone by now, but . . .”
“Reckon I can go along with that,” Denny said.
A grin stretched across Muddy’s round face. “Now, ain’t it better to be friends?” He put his right hand on Denny’s shoulder, his left on Rogers’s. “Come on back inside. Lon and me were on our way to the stable to check on our horses before we turn in for the night, but that can wait a little while. I want to hear more about the days when the two of you were ridin’ together.”
Denny wasn’t happy about that—it would mean making up more false history—but she was the one who had suggested the drinks again, so she couldn’t back out, though she did say, “Aw, there ain’t that much to tell. We pulled off a few jobs, but nothing spectacular.”
“You’ve forgotten about that train in Nebraska,” Rogers said as Muddy steered them back toward the batwings.
“The two of you held up a train?” the outlaw said, sounding impressed.
“We took over a flag stop in the middle of the night, waited until the train pulled in, and grabbed the conductor before anybody knew what was going on. The express messenger opened up the safe to keep us from putting a bullet in the fella.”
“Really? I didn’t think they’d do things like that, even to save the conductor’s life.”
Rogers shrugged. “We’d found out that the conductor and the messenger were brothers. Turned out blood meant more than either hombre’s job.”
“Smart!” Muddy said as they headed for the bar.
“It was my idea,” Denny said.
Rogers glared at her for a second but didn’t contradict the claim.
“This was a few years ago?” Muddy asked.
“Yeah,” Rogers said.
“But how’s that possible? The kid here looks like, well, a kid. A few years ago he would’ve been too young to be ridin’ the owlhoot.”
Denny said flatly, “I’m older than I look. I figure it’s because of clean livin’.”
Muddy looked at her, then burst out in a laugh. “You’re a caution, kid.” He signaled to the bartender and told the man to bring them drinks.
“Make it a bottle,” Denny said.
When Rogers frowned at her, she continued. “Maybe I’m not as much of a spendthrift as you think I am, Lon.”
“Could be you’ve changed,” he allowed, still playing his part. “It’s been a while.”
Denny dropped a coin on the bar, then picked up the bottle and three glasses the bartender placed in front of them. She inclined her head toward an empty table. “Come on. If we’re not gonna kill each other, we might as well make this a reunion.”
CHAPTER 30
Denny had never acquired much of a taste for whiskey. Young ladies in Europe might sip a glass of port or sherry now and then, but that was about all the drinking they did. It was a far cry from guzzling down raw whiskey that might well have been mixed up in a tin washtub out back.
She managed not to gasp and choke and pound on the table when she downed the first shot, but it took some effort to control that impulse. The liquor didn’t seem to have much effect on Rogers or Muddy Malone. She hoped her insides, from her mouth on down, would stop burning sooner or later.
To postpone taking another drink, she said to Rogers, “Tell me about this deal you’re working on, Williams.”
“It ain’t Lon’s deal to tell about,” Muddy said as he leaned forward in his chair. “It’s mine.”
“Well, then, you tell me about it. Unless you think I can’t be trusted.”
“Don’t go gettin’ another burr under your saddle, kid. It ain’t that I don’t trust you. It’s just that, well”—Muddy looked a little sheepish—“maybe I sorta spoke out of turn. It ain’t really my deal, neither. But the boss sent me up here to look for some fellas who might want to throw in with us, fellas I figured might be trustworthy.”
“And you picked this one?” Denny said skeptically as she nodded across the table toward Rogers.
“Now hold on,” the lawman said as his face flushed with anger again.
“Don’t start up,” Muddy snapped. “Look, kid . . . Denny, was it? If what Lon says is true, you’re the one who double-crossed him. That doesn’t sound like a fella I can really trust.”
That clever son of a gun! Denny thought. Even though Rogers had been making things up off the top of his head like she was, he had hit on a phony story that would make Malone less inclined to believe her about anything, including her desire to join the gang. He really and truly didn’t want her horning in on what he was doing, even though his motivation was completely different from what Malone believed it to be.
“Well, here’s the thing,” she said slowly. “Lon’s telling the truth, but I was younger then, more impulsive. And I really did believe he was planning to run out on me as soon as he got the chance. But I was wrong, and I’m man enough to admit it. Here’s something else: I’d like to make it up to you, Lon. I done you wrong, and I want to make it good.”
He regarded her with a wary frown as he asked, “What do you mean by that?”
“Give me the chance to be part of whatever this deal is,” Denny said, “and I’ll give you half of my share until I’ve paid back everything I took. We’ll be square then, and we can start over.”
Rogers’s cautious frown turned into a glare. He could see how neatly she had turned that around on him.
Muddy could, too, and grinned in appreciation. “You’re pretty smart, Denny. Maybe you ought to ride south in the morning with me and Lon and a few other fellas who want to throw in with us.”
Rogers said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea—”
Muddy held up a hand to stop him. “Not your decision to make, Lon. No offense. Don’t get touchy at me, now.”
“No, I’m not.” With a visible effort, Rogers forced a shrug. “It’s up to you if you want to bring the kid along. You won’t blame me, though, if I keep a pretty close eye on him.”
“That’s fine. You watch him and I won’t have to, any more than I’ll be keepin’ my eye on all of you.”
Denny asked, “Where is it we’re going, anyway?”
Muddy shook his head. “You’ll find out when the time comes.”
“When we meet this mysterious boss of yours?”
“That’s right.”
Denny asked the obvious question. “What happens if he decides he doesn’t want us to be part of his bunch?”
“Well . . . that’ll be a real shame. By then you’ll know where the hideout is and what’s going on, and if you’re not one of us—” Muddy stopped and reached for the bottle. “Ah, hell, why worry about things that ain’t likely to happen? We got a bottle and empty glasses, and by God, we’d better do something about that!”
* * *
Denny’s head was spinning. Even though she hadn’t drunk as much as Rogers and Malone, she had put away enough of the whiskey to feel it. She was unsteady on her feet as the three of them left the Silver Slipper and stepped out onto the boardwalk. Luckily the railing at the edge of the walk was close, so she was able to lean on it casually to keep from stumbling—or falling down.
That wouldn’t do at all for a hardened outlaw like she was pretending to be.
Rogers’s speech was a little slurred, but Denny couldn’t tell if he was really drunk, too, or only pretending as he said, “Listen, Muddy, I’ll check on your horse for you. You can go on back to the hotel and turn in. Get a good . . . a good night’s sleep.”
“Well, now, that wouldn’t be fair—”
“Sure it would. Anyway, Denny’s got to take his horse over there, too, so we’ll go together.”
Muddy squinted at him. “You two ain’t gonna get in a ruckus again, are you?”
“Hell, no,” Rogers said
with a laugh. “We’ve put all that behind us, ain’t we, Denny?”
“You . . . you bet.” She hiccupped and then went on. “Me an’ ol’ Lon here, we’re pards again.” She was feeling the liquor physically, but her brain was still sharp enough to maintain the masquerades they were both carrying out. At least she hoped it was. Maybe she was too drunk to notice if she made a slip.
She knew any slip would likely be a fatal one, and that knowledge was enough to dispel some of the fog hanging over her brain, anyway.
“All right, then,” Muddy said. “I’ll see you fellas in the mornin’. We’ll all get together at the Chinaman’s place for breakfast, then ride out. I want to be on the trail not long after sunup. We got a three- or four-day ride ahead of us.”
Three or four days would put her right back in the vicinity she had started from, Denny thought. Back to the mastermind who wanted to ruin Smoke Jensen and then kill him.
“Night,” Rogers said to Malone. “See you in the morning.”
Muddy walked off, stumbling just enough to demonstrate that he was feeling the whiskey, too.
Rogers let him get out of earshot, then said sharply from the corner of his mouth, “Get your damned horse.”
“Watch your mouth . . . Lon.”
He looked over at her. “You’re pretty quick on your feet, aren’t you?”
“Quicker than you ever would’ve given me credit for.”
“You’re drunk, too.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not so’s you’d notice. Come on. If Malone looks back, I want him to see us heading for the livery stable.”
That made sense. Denny stepped down from the boardwalk and grasped the hitch rail to steady herself again. “My horses are tied up across the street, in front of Lu Shan’s café.” She sighed. “It’s a long way over there.”
Brice put a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let you fall on your face in a pile of horse droppings.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Denny said.
They started across toward the café. Denny pointed a shaking finger at the buckskin and the paint and identified them as hers. As she walked and breathed in the cool night air, the fog cleared a little more and her steps steadied. Feeling that, Rogers took his hand off her shoulder.
Denny sort of missed the touch, then told herself that was loco. The grudge between “Denny West” and “Lon Williams” might be purely fictional, but the two of them weren’t exactly friends, either.
She untied the buckskin. “Which way is the livery stable?”
Rogers took the paint’s reins. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
He led her toward a barn not far from Virgil Trammell’s store. The big double doors on the front were closed. Rogers lifted the latch and swung one of the doors open. The barn’s interior was dark, but Denny smelled horseflesh, hay, and manure, and heard tails swishing and the occasional stomp of a hoof against the hard-packed ground.
“The liveryman sleeps in a shack out back,” Rogers said as they led the two horses into the barn. “No need for us to roust him out. We can take care of these animals. You’re not too drunk to unsaddle a horse, are you?”
“I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”
“Good, because if you were, you’d probably be passed out by now.”
“You just take care of yourself, Williams.”
His voice was a whisper as he said, “You don’t have to call me that when nobody else is around.”
“Reckon I’d better,” Denny said. “We don’t want to forget who we’re supposed to be.”
“That’s true. There were some empty stalls back here earlier. We’ll see if they still are.”
He snapped a match to life with his thumbnail, then held the flame to the wick of a small lantern hanging on a post. The feeble glow lit up one corner of the barn but provided enough light for Denny to pick out a couple empty stalls.
She started unsaddling the buckskin. Her fingers fumbled several times at the task.
Rogers stepped closer to her and reached out. “I’ll take care of that for you.”
“I can unsaddle my own horse, damn it.”
His hand had already fallen on hers where she was gripping one of the cinch buckles. Denny caught her breath. She wanted to jerk her hand away, but for some reason she didn’t.
He was close beside her, close enough to breathe so no one else could hear, “You crazy little fool. What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are,” she whispered back. “Trying to pick up the trail of those rustlers and killers.”
“But you’re just—”
“A girl?” she cut in. “No, I’m not. I’m Denny West, outlaw and fast gun, and if you try to ruin that for me, mister, I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”
“How?”
“I’m not the only one with a secret.”
“You’re threatening me?”
“Stop and think about it, idiot,” she muttered. “Neither of us can give the other one away without ruining things for ourselves. Is that what you want?” When he didn’t answer right away, she went on. “For God’s sake, Malone’s going to take us right where we want to go! The only way not to ruin that is to work together.”
He was silent for a moment longer, then said, “You’re right. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I don’t give a damn whether you like it. All I care about is putting a stop to the threat to my family.”
“How do you think your father would feel about what you’re doing?”
“He’d be mad at first.” Denny smiled in the near-darkness. “And then he’d be proud of me for going after those varmints.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I reckon we’ll find out sooner or later.”
Rogers grimaced. “Yeah, if we don’t get killed first.”
CHAPTER 31
There was one actual hotel in Elkhorn, as well as a couple saloons that rented small, squalid rooms in the back, with or without the company of a soiled dove, depending on what the customer was willing to pay. Denny planned on staying at the hotel, if a room was available. Under the circumstances, sharing a room could present some problems.
She was lucky. The hotel had several vacant rooms, and the pasty-faced, oily-haired clerk was glad to rent one to her. She slid a coin across the desk to him—nothing as formal as signing a register.
He leered and said, “I can send out to have a girl keep you company if you want.”
“I thought this was a respectable place,” Denny said.
“Oh, it is, it is. Only the finest, cleanest girls, that’s what I’m talking about.”
Denny shook her head. “I’ve been on the trail a long time. Just want some sleep.”
“Suit yourself,” the clerk said as he took a key from a hook and handed it to her. “Room Seven, top of the stairs and turn right.” As she turned away from the desk, he added, “And if you rest a while and then change your mind about the company, just let me know. I got a room in the back. Knock on the door anytime, and I’ll go rustle up some companionship for you.”
Denny just grunted and went on to the stairs. Simply being around the clerk was enough to make her feel like she ought to soak in a nice, hot tub for a while to get some of the grime off.
Brice Rogers had a room there, too, and had gone upstairs already while she was making arrangements with the clerk. He had told her he was in Room Eleven, two doors down the upstairs hallway, which didn’t really matter because she didn’t plan on seeing him again until the next morning. Muddy Malone had indicated that he was staying there as well, although Denny had no idea in which room.
The place wasn’t fancy, by any means, but the bed looked comfortable. She lit the lamp, drew the thick curtains closed over the single window, and made sure she had locked the door when she came in. Then she took off her vest, shirt, and long underwear and unwound the bindings from her torso, sighing with relief as her breasts came free.
She sighed again as she ran
her hand over the ragged, bristly blond hair on her head. The masquerade had its drawbacks and discomforts, that was for sure, but she could tolerate them for the sake of her father and the rest of her family, she told herself.
Stripping down to the bottoms of the long underwear, she blew out the lamp and crawled into bed. The sheets were coarse and the mattress was a little lumpy, but after several nights of sleeping on the trail, she didn’t mind.
Slumber didn’t come quite as quick as she thought it would, though. She couldn’t get Brice Rogers out of her mind. It complicated things having him around, that was true, but at the same time, she had an unexpected ally. She believed she could count on him for help if any trouble broke out.
On the other hand, having two of them working undercover doubled the chances that something could go wrong, didn’t it? If one of them was exposed, the other would be, too.
Unless the one whose secret wasn’t exposed was willing to let the hand play out however it would for the unlucky one. And that hand was almost certain to end badly . . .
Denny finally drifted off to sleep, hoping it would never come to that.
Hoping she would never have to make such a decision.
* * *
Rogers was waiting in the hotel lobby for her when she came down the stairs the next morning.
“Muddy’s already gone down to the café, but I told him I’d wait for you.” He smiled. “He said that was fine as long as I wasn’t intending to ambush you over that old grudge.”
“Water under the bridge, like Muddy said,” Denny declared. She tugged her hat down tighter on her head as they stepped out onto the boardwalk and headed for Lu Shan’s place.
Not many people were out and about that early, and the ones who were appeared to be some of the honest citizens of Elkhorn rather than the lawless drifters who accounted for most of the settlement’s population those days. No one paid any attention to Denny and Rogers; in fact, people seemed to be going out of their way to avoid them.
The Jensen Brand Page 21