Payton's Woman

by Marilyn Yarbrough

  He speculated that if Dunbar was in town, Ritter wouldn’t have been so brazen as to attempt to extort money from Hennigan’s widow. He’d insinuated to Stover that a bundle of money had been hidden somewhere. That took a lot of brass to demand the money for himself. Payton suspected he knew when Dunbar would arrive. From the way he acted, that moment edged closer.

  But Payton grew tired of waiting. Minutes turned to hours, and still the little weasel hadn’t appeared. His patience ran thin. Hanging out in a tavern all night didn’t appeal to him. The beer he drank dulled his mind, but not his desire. He longed to be in the arms of the woman he loved.

  Julia was his wife. He mulled the thought over in his mind. He’d written their names in the log book, making it official.

  ‘Til death do us part.

  He didn’t want to be away from her. The thought of Julia alone in Sacramento and living under Betsy’s roof tormented him. With a silent prayer, he hoped she remembered her promise to stay out of trouble.

  While he’d been hanging out in the taverns, an idea had rolled around in his head. He recalled what she’d said about men always returning to the sea and leaving their loved ones behind. Once he finished this business with Dunbar, he never wanted to leave her again. If she wouldn’t go on his ship, then he’d stay with her. He loved the sea, but he loved her more. That’s why he’d made arraignments to buy the Double Eagle Shipping Company. The transaction would be complete in a few more days. Once the Double Eagle belonged to him, he’d have a profession that would allow him to be involved in the activities of the sea, but still be near Julia.

  He and Nicholas Stover would be partners. Payton had provided the majority of the money. Stover’s contribution would be to teach him everything he knew about shipping. Together they’d rebuild the reputation of the Double Eagle Shipping Company.

  Because he’d used his savings to buy the company, his available cash had dwindled. He stayed at the Double Eagle in the office Hennigan had converted into a bedroom, although it reminded him of a bordello. Later he could find a suitable house to rent. He’d bring Julia to San Francisco to live with him as his wife. But he didn’t want to wait. Being without her put him in agony. He wanted her with him now.

  Payton hoisted the beer mug and drained the contents. Just as he considered going to another tavern, he noticed Ritter sneak in through the door. The man slunk around the perimeter of the room so he blended with the shadows. Now was the time to find out how much Ritter knew about Dunbar, but he had to be careful how he made his move. He didn’t want to frighten him off. The poor man looked scared enough already. Payton put a stagger in his walk as he wandered over to the bar.

  “Whiskey.” He slapped a silver dollar on the bar to make certain he attracted Ritter’s attention.

  “Hey, mate.” Ritter slithered up beside him. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  Payton knew this ploy. He’d seen it used at many taverns. A man would claim to be a long, lost friend, or shipmate in the hope of getting a free drink from a man with a poor memory. He’d use it to his advantage. He laughed to himself as he recalled honing his playacting skills with Julia. She’d found him so believable that she suggested he go on the stage. He wanted to be just as convincing with Ritter. His eyes crossed into a blurry stare. His head bobbed around as though too heavy for his neck.

  “Hey, mate.” He slapped Ritter on the back as if they were good friends. His voice turned loud and his words slurred. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How the bloody hell are you?”

  Ritter downed the drinks as quickly as Payton bought them. After getting a bottle, they moved to a table near the back. When Ritter fell deep into his cups, Payton pressed for answers.

  “So what do you hear from our old mate?”

  “Fine, fine. The old mates are fine.”

  Ritter stuck with his act of pretending they had mutual friends. Payton had a different plan. He intended to make him talk about someone they both actually knew.

  “Last I heard, our old mate got himself shot and had to hide inland somewhere.”

  “Which mate is that?” Ritter’s face held a blank expression.

  He leaned closer, as if he didn’t want to be overheard. “You know.”

  The man scrunched up his face in what seemed to Payton as genuine confusion.

  “Larry Dunbar.”

  Ritter’s mouth gaped open. His eyes seemed to pop from their sockets. “Who’d you say, mate?”

  “You heard me. It’s not wise to say his name too loud around here.”

  “I ain’t seen him in sometime.” He sank lower over the table as he glanced behind him. “Years probably.”

  “Then you may be surprised to learn he’ll be here soon. Fact is, he could already be in town.”

  Ritter sank even lower over the table. His eyelids narrowed as he studied Payton. “Is he a good mate of yours?”

  “Not bloody likely,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Then why are you looking for him?”

  “He owes me something. I aim to collect, even if I have to tear it from his black heart.”

  “You’re not afraid of him?”

  “We’ve tangled before. This time I’m going to take care of him for good.”

  “He owes me something, too,” Ritter said. “But collecting is the problem.”

  “If he owes you money, why don’t you go to him and demand it from him?”

  The man paled. “I ain’t about to face him down, but I am going to get the money he owes me.”

  “What does he owe you money for?”

  “I was with him on his last venture. It went bad. He promised if I stuck with him, he’d see to it that I was took care of. The thing is, I know how he takes care of his partners.” He rubbed a grubby hand over his bearded neck. “He cuts their throats.”

  “Then why are you waiting around for him?”

  “It’s not him I’m waiting on. I’m aiming to collect a lot of money so I can ship out of here.” He looked Payton over carefully. “I could use a man like you to watch my back.”

  “I might be interested.” He cocked his head to one side. “But who are you planning to get money from?”

  “Never you mind.”

  “You don’t know anything,” he deliberately goaded him.

  “I know plenty. I was with Dunbar when he was shot. He was hurt bad. When his fever came on him, he prattled on for hours. I learned there was a lot of money to be had. And I also learned who to get if from.”

  Payton poured whiskey into the empty glass and scooted it closer to Ritter. “And who would that be?”

  “There were a couple of people, but the best bet is this woman. I wrote her a letter telling her to bring me my share.”

  “A woman? That should be easy. Why do you need me to watch your back?”

  “I don’t trust her. She probably loves the son of a bitch. She may not give up the money without proof he’s alive.”

  Payton tried to mentally sort through the women he knew were in Dunbar’s life. Only Betsy and perhaps Sylvia Morgan popped into his mind.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Twenty dollars.”

  Payton knew he shouldn’t have laughed out loud, but he couldn’t stop himself. He used it to his advantage, though. “Make it a hundred, and we’ve got a bargain.”

  Ritter eyed him carefully before speaking. “Done.”

  “When do you need me?”

  “Thursday night.”

  “That’s in two days. Where are you meeting this woman?”

  “I ain’t no landlubber, and this ain’t my first voyage. I’ll tell you when the time comes. Just meet me here Thursday night.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Julia laid the stack of letters on the polished oak table in the entryway. Her hands trembled as she removed her hat and gloves.

  She picked up the letter on the top of the stack and turned it over in her hand. Scrawled on the front in dark pencil lead appeared the na
me Betsy Dunbar. Any letter addressed in this manner could not be opened by anyone but Betsy.

  Her heart thumped wildly. She’d waited so long for this moment. The envelope in her hand contained information that would lead her to her brother’s murderer—of that she felt certain. Lawrence Dunbar was near. She could sense it. The air seemed to crackle with his stench.

  She slapped the unopened letter against the palm of her other hand while considering her choices. With her duplicate key to the desk drawer, the contents of the envelope would eventually be known to her, but she worried how long she would have to wait.

  If she wanted to read the letter, Betsy had to be gone from the house. Then she’d have access to the study without fear of discovery. But that task had become increasingly difficult. Betsy rarely left the house. Her afternoon rides through town had ceased. Visits to Sylvia never occurred. Her shopping excursions were nonexistent. Since the disastrous incident at the garden party, Betsy had become suspicious of everyone, including Julia and the Baxters. During these last couple of weeks, she’d turned down all invitations to parties.

  Respectable people had distanced themselves from Betsy. Wilber Hennigan’s suicide and the rumors of her involvement with her son in treasonous activities caused everyone to back away.

  Olivia Baxter had tried to persuade her to leave Betsy’s employ. She wanted Julia to live with her, but she’d refused. Her sacrifice had been too great for her to back away now.

  “Julia.” Betsy’s loud voice called to her from the study.

  She smoothed her hands down the front of her light blue grown. Perhaps if she looked calm, Betsy wouldn’t notice her nervous state. She grabbed the other mail. As she walked to the study, she tried to decide what to do with the letter. She could put it back among the other envelopes, or she could tuck it into her pocket. Later when she was alone in the safety of her room, she could open the letter and read the contents. After that, the letter could be destroyed as though it never existed. Just before entering the study, she made her decision. She slipped the letter into the stack with the rest of the mail.

  “What’s taking you so long?”

  Her screeching voice grated on Julia’s nerves. She ignored the question and took a seat in the chair across from her. “I have today’s mail.”

  Deliberately, she laid the letters face down on the corner of the desk so the addresses didn’t show. She grabbed the letter opener with one hand and the first envelope with her other. Her fingers fumbled with the process of opening it. She pulled out the letter and read the contents.

  “Mrs. MacAfee has extended an invitation to a dinner party next week. Would you like me to confirm your acceptance?”

  A grunt was the only response.

  The next letter contained the message Julia eagerly wanted to read. She tried to appear unhurried as she inserted the blade into the envelope and slit it open along the top edge. Her hands shook as she removed a single torn piece of brown wrapping paper. She unfolded the note in her lap.

  Quickly, she scanned the contents. The words were scratched in pencil marks. Numerous misspellings littered the page, but she deciphered the message.

  Dunbar was hurt. Betsy should bring money—a lot. A man named Ritter would take her to him. He’d meet her at her old brothel Thursday night.

  Her fingers gripped the arm of her chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Lawrence Dunbar hid somewhere in San Francisco. He’d be found, and then he’d pay for his crimes. She shuddered with the realization there would finally be justice for her brother’s death.

  But how could she leave to search for Dunbar? She’d sworn an oath to Payton that she wouldn’t leave Sacramento. She’d also promised to stay out of trouble. If she went to San Francisco to locate Dunbar, trouble would be exactly what she’d find.

  She smoothed her hand across her belly. By her calculation, it would only be a few more days before her body revealed her situation. Or perhaps not, for her cycles weren’t always regular. Several days may have to pass before she discovered with certainty if a baby grew inside her. But if it turned out to be true, if she carried Payton’s child, she had another life to worry about besides her own.

  Her shoulders slumped forward as her frustration grew. She had only one choice, to stay here. She couldn’t proceed with her plan to find her brother’s killer.

  She took a steadying breath and released it slowly in an effort to calm herself before she handed the letter to Betsy. “This note is written so badly that I can’t make out the words.”

  “Let me see.” She snatched the paper from her so roughly that the heavy wrapping paper ripped in half. Betsy laid the torn pieces in front of her on the desk and smoothed the two halves together while she read the message. “That bastard!”

  “I beg your pardon.” Julia tried to look shocked at the foul language, but she’d heard so many filthy words spill from her mouth that the mild obscenity left her unruffled.

  “Ritter just wants the money for himself.” Betsy looked up and her mouth dropped open. She’d undoubtedly not meant to say that out loud in front of Julia.

  “Let me see that envelope.” She extended her hand. Her face twisted into an angry snarl. “You know you’re forbidden to open a letter addressed like this.”

  Julia pressed a look of innocence on her face as she leaned forward and read the outside of the envelope. Her gaze went to the stack of unopened letters. She picked them up, making it obvious they were turned face down. “Oh, dear. I didn’t notice. I’ll sort through the rest of the mail for any other letters addressed in that manner.”

  “It’s a little late for that.” Betsy muttered a string of obscenities.

  “I’m sorry.” She attempted to imitate Elsie’s expression when being berated by Betsy. “I’ll be more careful with the rest of the mail.”

  “Never mind with that. Go find my maid. Tell her to pack my clothes for a week-long trip to San Francisco.”

  “Are you going away?” Julia’s eyebrows lifted in feigned surprise.

  “Just do like you’re told. And fetch Gilbert while you’re at it. I’ll have to give him money and send him to the shipping office to purchase two tickets for the steamer that leaves tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you taking your maid?” she asked, although she speculated her companion would most likely be Sylvia.

  Betsy paused from getting out of her chair. Her eyelids narrowed as she looked Julia over from the top of her blonde hair all the way down to her feet. “I’m taking you with me. I might need someone to provide a distraction.”

  “Me?” Her eyes opened wide. “I can’t go on a ship. I get horribly seasick.”

  “Stop your blubbering. Any other young woman would jump at the chance to take a trip to a town as lively and gay as San Francisco.”

  “Then take any other woman, but I won’t go.”

  “You’re getting awfully high and mighty lately. I suppose I have Olivia Baxter to thank for that. Her crowd thinks they’re so much better than me.”

  She almost agreed, but caught herself in time. “Why don’t you take Elsie?”

  “That whining, sniveling little...” She paused to look at Julia. Her eyes once more appraised her. “You’ve got a coolness about you. And you’ve got a good mind. If you’d curb that back sassing mouth of yours and listen to me, I could turn you into a very wealth commodity. Now do like you’re told and pack your things.”

  Julia left the room without further argument. She relayed Betsy’s instructions to the maid and coachman. With those tasks completed, she went to her room to pack her belongings. But San Francisco wouldn’t be her destination. She’d promised Payton she’d stay in Sacramento. If not with Betsy, then she’d go live with the Baxters. Olivia would be thrilled to have her as a guest. And if she carried Payton’s baby, it would be the safest place for her unborn child.

  After the coachman received his instructions, he’d go to the dock to purchase tickets. Julia could leave the house with little resistance. Betsy might
try to stop her, but not if she had the help of another. Once she’d discovered the French chef despised his employer, they’d become good friends. If Betsy tried to block her attempt to escape, Marcel would help her. But first she had to let him know of her plan to leave. She stopped packing and went downstairs. When she reached the hallway that lead to the kitchen, she tiptoed past the study. The voices of Gilbert and Betsy came from behind the closed door. The name Lawrence Dunbar echoed through the door. Julia halted in her tracks, hoping to hear more information about her brother’s murderer.

  “My son should be arriving in San Francisco soon. With that bastard Hennigan dead, he’ll need my help. This man Ritter claims he knows where Larry is. I’m going there to find out for certain.

  “Tyler is down there also.” Betsy’s angry voice boomed through the closed door. “I don’t know why, but he’s hunting for my son. I’m taking that blonde bitch with me to distract him. Once I get him in my sights, I’ll shoot the son of a bitch myself. He won’t suspect that I’d resort to putting a bullet in his brain.”

  Julia’s hand went to her mouth to muffle her heavy gasp. Betsy intended to murder Payton. Carefully, she retraced her steps so none of the floor boards squeaked. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she dashed up the steps to her room. She locked her door and sat on the edge of the bed. With her arms clasped around her body, she rocked back and forth in an effort to calm herself, but Betsy’s threat to Payton’s life echoed through her brain. He had to be warned. But how? She had no knowledge of his whereabouts. But Betsy knew where he was. And she intended to use Julia as a distraction. As bait.

  If Julia didn’t accompany her, Betsy would undoubtedly devise another way to distract him so she could kill him. She pressed her hands against the sides of her head in an effort to help her think. Payton’s life depended on her. She needed to inform him of Betsy’s plan, but she didn’t know how to contact him. There seemed to be only one solution. She had to go to San Francisco and find Payton before Betsy killed him.