“Now when I throw that big door open,” Bridger said, “you’d better ride like hell—straight out the street in front of you. Don’t look back till you’ve put a good two miles behind you. I know this paint can do it.” He grabbed the door handle and nodded. “Good luck.”
Bridger drew back the barn door, and Emmett gave his gelding the spurs. He reined left into the street, ready to run the pinto like a bat outta hell, when who should he spot straight ahead but Charlie Blaylock and two other seedy hombres.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Only a block ahead, Charlie and his amigos were crossing the street on foot, pistols drawn, bobbing to catch a glimpse through the window of some shop or office.
Emmett pulled back on the reins. He kept his gaze on the trio as he wheeled his horse.
One of the three—a fellow with a thick mustache—looked Emmett’s way. “Hey!” he shouted, jabbing his weapon up the street. “Is that him?”
Charlie spun. “Sure ’nough. Get him.”
Emmett gave his mount the rowels—going the wrong direction, but that was of little concern at the moment.
Three shots sounded before he could turn a corner. Once he did, he rose in his stirrups and yelled into his horse’s ear, “C’mon, Gordo. Gimme all you’ve got.” The pinto dug in and lit a shuck down the street. Emmett didn’t look back.
It took an extra two hours for Emmett to put some distance between himself and town and then to pick his way south and east to where he’d left Juanito and Sikes. He did his best to ride over rock or through water where he could—anything to slow down those who might try to cut sign and follow him.
At last he arrived at his compadres’ campfire.
“Beginning to wonder about you,” Sikes said.
“You won’t believe this,” Emmett said as he swung down. “But I ended up having not one but two brushes with Charlie Blaylock himself.”
Juanito’s eyes widened. “What?”
Emmett summarized the missed opportunity to nab Charlie right outside the Hyperion Saloon, the newspaperman’s intervention, and getting shot at by Blaylock and his two pardners on the way out of Reno.
“So close, hermano.”
Emmett shrugged. “It’s a start. Laid eyes on Charlie. Maybe found us an ally. Speaking of which…” He pulled the folded piece of newsprint from his vest pocket. “When I asked for word on the Blaylocks, Cromarty—the newspaper fella—gave me this.”
“You suppose we have enough time to take a look at it now?” Sikes asked. “Or should we put more distance between ourselves and Reno first?”
“Let’s take a quick peek. May help us decide whether to stay close or fall back.”
It turned out there were two sheets of paper from Cromarty—a piece of printed newspaper folded around a sheet of plain white paper. On the plain white paper, Cromarty had sketched a crude map of the area from San Francisco to Virginia City and down to the town of Genoa, several miles south of Carson City. To make out the details, Emmett held the map as near to the fire as he dared. “Interesting,” he said.
“Well, don’t be so mysterious about it, man,” Sikes said. “What’s it say?”
“It looks like he’s listed—burg by burg—the names of the saloons, gaming parlors, and brothels the McIntoshes own.”
“What’s that got to do with us?” Juanito asked.
Emmett shook his head. “There are question marks beside some of them. Maybe Cromarty’s not sure for a fact who owns those.”
On the other side of the campfire, Sikes paced back and forth. “I agree with Juanito. This doesn’t seem especially helpful—thus far, anyway.”
“Over here on the edge of the paper, he made a little chart. Lucian McIntosh at the top, parentheses, Reno. Beneath that is Thaddeus McIntosh, parentheses, Carson City—”
“And that, we already know,” Sikes said.
“Will you give me a goll-darn minute, Sikes?” Emmett snapped. He muttered to himself over the paper for a bit, then said, “OK, Cromarty put Seth Blaylock’s name just below and to the side of Lucian McIntosh. There’s a line connecting the two. And beside Seth Blaylock, it says in parentheses ‘procurement,’ with another question mark.”
Grit crunched beneath Sikes’s feet as he continued his pacing.
“Anything about Charlie Blaylock?” Juanito asked, his voice tentative.
Again Emmett shook his head. “I’m obliged to Cromarty for collaring me this afternoon. May have saved my hide. But I thought the little newspaperman was gonna offer me something useful—information that might help us make another run at Eli’s murderer.” He looked up and sighed. “So you’re both right. If we were here to police the doings of the McIntoshes and Seth Blaylock, all this might be helpful. But that’s not why we’ve put a thousand miles between ourselves and Texas, is it?” He folded the papers as they had been and tucked them back into his pocket.
“If I may…” Sikes said, now rocking on his heels.
Emmett spread his hands and nodded.
“Perhaps the newspaperman believes the only way we’re going to take Charlie Blaylock away from here is to first bring down the McIntoshes and Seth Blaylock.”
“Plan on buying land and settling here in Nevada? Because bringing down men like McIntosh and Seth Blaylock takes time.”
Juanito rubbed his eyes. “And bed houses are popular places with hombres like miners—lonely men far away from home. They would probably take Blaylock and McIntosh’s side. Join the fight against us.”
“Perhaps,” Sikes added, “Cromarty understands that there’s no real law in Reno—only the token sheriff and marshal that McIntosh appoints.”
“And he hopes we’ll stay and play the role of the real law?” Emmett said. “No, thanks.”
The only sound for a few moments was the snap and pop of the campfire.
“So what now?” Juanito asked.
“We can’t stay in Reno,” Emmett said. “By now Charlie Blaylock will have let Seth know I’ve followed him up here. Only a matter of time before the Blaylocks, the Reno McIntoshes, and the Carson City McIntoshes get to talking. Once they compare notes, they’ll all realize I’m not up here alone.”
“After yesterday we can’t stay in Carson City either.”
“Or that little town down beside Washoe Lake,” Sikes added.
Emmett stood up and stretched his saddle-weary back. “So we fall back to Virginia City, make a new plan, and try one more time.”
Sikes cocked his head. “Just one more time?”
“Each attempt has got to count. The more shots we take, the more we expose ourselves to the Blaylocks and McIntoshes. And we didn’t exactly bring along an army.”
Sikes untied his horse’s reins. “If we use up all our chances and still haven’t caught Blaylock, I have a feeling you’ll always regret coming such a long way for nothing.”
“It won’t be for nothing.”
“That’s right,” Juanito said as he stepped into his stirrup. “There’s that pretty little Chinese girl in Virginia City, the one that—”
“Like I told you before, Juanito, shut your big bazoo, would you? That’s not what I meant.”
Juanito chuckled and winked.
Emmett threw the stirrup up onto the seat of his saddle. “When it comes to justice, all we can do is plan well and try hard. Pray for the good Lord to bring about the right results.”
“Strong,” Sikes said, “you always talk about justice. It never gets personal for you? Even when it’s got to do with your own brother? Your own wife? You don’t ever hanker for good old-fashioned revenge?”
Emmett paused from cinching up his saddle. “Believe me, temptation arises often enough.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The leather wingback chair Lucian McIntosh occupied groaned as he shifted his weight. He exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke and turned back to Seth Blaylock, sha
king his head.
“How many did you take, son?” Incredulity darkened his tone.
“Six, sir,” Seth answered.
McIntosh threw his arms wide. “Well, why didn’t you go on and take every damn female in Chinatown? What’s that? Maybe two, three hundred?”
Seth stood, hands clasped behind his back, in the center of the plush Oriental rug that filled most of McIntosh’s study.
“One or two at a time,” McIntosh said. “Out-of-the-way towns. That’s our style.”
“That’s what I usually do,” Seth said, his face tinged red. “You know that, sir.”
McIntosh shook a finger. He took a breath, about to speak, but he stopped. After reconsidering his words, he started again. “You must’ve made one hell of a racket. How many of our men in the raidin’ party?”
“Fifteen, sir.”
“Fifteen!” McIntosh felt his neck tighten beneath his crisp white collar. “You took fifteen men ridin’ right into Virginia City. Did you lose your mind, son? Must’ve sounded for all the world like Sherman’s March to the Sea.”
Again Seth was silent.
“And nobody saw you?”
“Only ones saw us were some Chinese when we were just fixin’ to ride out again. Had to shoot ’em, sir.”
“Just Chinese fellas.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, at least you got that part right.” McIntosh brooded. He struggled to bridle his anger. Even if Seth was a favorite, McIntosh didn’t appreciate carelessness.
“Seth, I don’t know how else to put it. That raid was too audacious. In too big a city. And too damn close to home.
“It won’t happen again, Mr. McIntosh.”
“You’re damn right it won’t. You’re better’n that, son.” He modulated his tone down a notch. “You’ve got a lot of years of experience doin’ this.”
Seth ran the back of his hand across the tip of his nose. “Yes, sir.”
The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the heavy silence.
“Well, go ahead and pour yourself a brandy,” McIntosh said. “You ain’t lost your standin’ with me because of this one bad decision. But I want you to know I sure as hell ain’t pleased.”
Seth picked up the decanter from the mahogany side table and poured himself a half snifter.
“You’re well aware that these things don’t always go the way we plan ’em. Had but one little thing gone wrong, you’d have been knee-deep in cow pies—even if it was only Chinese girls you took. Virginia City don’t take kindly to our organization. It’s the one town out here that don’t.”
Drink in hand, Seth returned to the carpet. McIntosh gestured for him to take the matching wingback chair. A window draped in deep-green velvet separated them.
“Mr. McIntosh, maybe that’s why I decided to do somethin’ so boldfaced. Maybe it’s because the big bugs in Virginia City are the only ones that don’t give us—you, rather—the respect you deserve.”
McIntosh waved his hand. “I don’t need their approval.”
“You’ve done just as well for yourself as any of them dandies down there,” Seth said. “Better’n most. Don’t seem right that they won’t treat you as an equal.”
“Scared of the competition, son,” McIntosh said. “Nothin’ more than that. They’re just scared I’ll run better establishments than they do and eventually drive ’em out of business.” He coughed hard. “But that ain’t the point. We go irritatin’ Virginia City now, and they might not leave well enough alone. Before you know it, we’ll have a little war goin’ on between us—a shootin’ war. And we don’t need that right now.”
“Yes, sir. But you’re not worried about the Chinese retaliatin’, are you, sir?”
“’Course not.” McIntosh adjusted his necktie. “Chinese ain’t got no legal standin’. Might be mad as hornets, but they’d be too scared to strike back—even if they knew who to strike back at. Afraid it’d bring the government down on ’em.”
“There’s that too, sir. They ain’t got a clue who we are.”
“Just the same,” McIntosh said. “You’re gonna have to resume exercisin’ the kind of caution and judgment that made you as good as you are at what you do. Are we clear on this?”
Seth nodded sharply. “Yes, sir.”
“Well then, let’s see them China girls. I wanna inspect the merchandise. See if it was worth the gamble—just this once.”
“Yes, sir.” Seth got up and headed to the door.
Ettie was waiting just outside. “Bring ’em on in,” he told her.
Seconds later, Ettie and Seth had the six young women standing side by side on the carpet in the middle of Lucian McIntosh’s study.
Lucian rose from his chair and walked up and down the line, eyeing each girl head to toe. The Chinese beauties, most still sniffling, looked down at the floor. McIntosh stopped in front of the third in line and lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger.
“This one’s real pretty, ain’t she? Delicate like.”
Seth and Ettie remained silent.
“A lot of China girls are too skinny, but I think some of these’re fillin’ out real nice…though it’s hard to tell, their clothes bein’ so loose fittin’ and all.”
“You want ’em stripped?” Seth asked coolly.
At that, all but one of the girls began to cry openly, holding their arms across their chests, clutching their sleeves, doing what little they could to avoid being disrobed and exposed. The only one not openly weeping still kept her arms tightly folded. She wouldn’t meet McIntosh’s gaze.
“No,” he said. “Don’t need to strip ’em just now. I can see they’ll do fine.”
He turned to Ettie. “You can give ’em a thorough look-over in private. Be sure none of ’em has any injuries…or, heaven forbid, defects.”
“Yes, Mr. McIntosh,” she said.
McIntosh moved to the one who wasn’t sobbing aloud, though tears did glimmer on her cheeks. She alone wore her hair down—at least on one side.
“My, oh my,” he said. “Even considerin’ all the different exotics we try to provide for our clients, I’m not so sure I’ve ever seen one any prettier than this little devil.”
He asked her, “You speaky English? Hmm?”
She turned her head to the side.
“What’s your name? Hmm?”
She sniffed and tugged her black-and-gold smock tighter. “I speak English,” she said. “My name is Li Xu.”
McIntosh looked up at Seth, then at Ettie. “I wanna keep this one for myself.”
Looking back at Li Xu, he said, “How’s that sound, darlin’? Take good care of you here in the big house?”
Tears began to flow down her flushed cheeks. She put her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook as she wept silently.
McIntosh took a step back, then methodically eyed each of the six girls once again, pausing a little longer on one or another. “My, oh my,” he repeated, nodding and chuckling quietly.
“OK, Ettie,” he said, “take these girls to the guest house out back. Except maybe these two.” He put his hands on the shoulders of Li Xu and the girl standing next to her. “Take these two up to the room by mine.”
Ettie nodded. She and Seth guided the girls out into the hallway where two McIntosh gunmen waited.
“Seth, stay behind just a minute, would you?” McIntosh said. “And Ettie, you come right on back as soon as them girls are squared away. Tell Margaret to get ’em all some food, too.”
Seth closed the door once again. “Yes, Mr. McIntosh.”
“Son,” McIntosh said, “I don’t want to say anything that you might take as encouragement to ever try anything like this again.” He drew on his cigar and exhaled. “But damn if they ain’t the finest lookin’ batch of doves a man could come up with in one haul.”
“I thought you
’d like ’em, sir.”
“I’ve got a notion I may sell the four I’m not gonna keep for myself. They’ll fetch top dollar from some of my business associates. Ought to be right popular over in some of the cow towns out along the railroad.”
“Any special instructions then? Until you decide?”
Sweeping his arm toward the south-facing window, McIntosh said, “I’d like you to take ’em to the Gilded Lily down in Genoa.”
“All right, sir.”
“Tuck ’em away out of sight—whole time you’re movin’ ’em and once you get ’em there, too. I don’t want ’em used down there. Not by Frank Martin. Not by nobody. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“These’re strictly for sale by me…or until I decide otherwise.”
“Understood, sir.”
“And I want you and Ettie to stay down there in Genoa with ’em for a few days,” he said. “Want you to lay low for a bit till we see how things settle out. If all remains quiet in relation to Virginia City, I’ll send for you.”
“Will do.”
“Oh, and Seth, take the back road. West of Washoe Lake, west of Minden. Stay off the main roads.”
“I will, sir. Want me to leave tomorrow?”
“The day after,” McIntosh said, tossing the butt of his cigar into the fireplace. “In case I decide to send the other two on down with ’em.”
Just then someone knocked.
McIntosh nodded. Seth went to the door. It was Ettie.
“That’ll be all then, Seth,” McIntosh said. “Let me have a word with Ettie.”
Once he and Ettie were alone, he said, “They may not feel much like eatin’, but I’d like you to encourage the two upstairs to take a little nourishment.”
Ettie met McIntosh’s gaze. He found her as lovely in form and face as any female he’d ever encountered. Yet for some reason he’d always been content to leave her alone. His feelings toward her were unique—somehow vaguely paternal.
He sometimes found it difficult to read Ettie. She didn’t seem to fear him as many women did. And never did she try using her feminine wiles to advance her standing with him. She usually remained cool and aloof. But loyal…trustworthy. Like Seth. He was glad Seth and Ettie had each other.
Strong Convictions: An Emmett Strong Western (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 1) Page 12