Dancing With Dead Men

by James Reasoner

  That was true and Logan knew how terrible they felt, but right now he was more worried about Vickie. He worked his way through the crowd until he could catch hold of the sleeve of the fire department captain.

  "Where's Mrs. Eastland?" he asked, again having to shout. "Have you seen Mrs. Eastland?"

  "What?" the man snapped distractedly. "Get away, mister! Can't you see we've got our hands full here? We've got to keep that fire from spreading to the other buildings!"

  It was true. The firemen had stopped spraying water on the boarding house and were now wetting down the walls and roofs of the neighboring structures. Fire was probably the most feared natural disaster in any frontier town, and Hot Springs was no different.

  But was this fire natural? That question suddenly occurred to Logan. He knew how careful Vickie was, how much pride she took in the way she ran her house. The idea of her letting such a blaze start and get so out of hand seemed wrong to him. It wouldn't have happened.

  He took a step toward the burning house. He didn't know why. There was nothing he could do. It was an inferno inside; he couldn't go in. But it took an effort of will not to rush into the flames anyway to search for Vickie.

  A strong hand closed around his arm. He looked over and saw Rusty standing there.

  "It's all right," Logan said. "You don't have to hold me back. I'm not a complete fool."

  "I know that," Rusty said, "but you climbed out of the buggy and plunged into the crowd so fast, you forgot this."

  He held up Logan's cane.

  Logan's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't realized until this moment that he didn't have the cane, wasn't bracing himself up or helping himself walk with it. He had spent the past few minutes on his own two legs. The right one hurt, but it held him up all right.

  Doc Reese was right, he thought. He was getting better. His leg was, anyway. And that gave him hope for some eventual improvement in his arm, too.

  But right now he didn't really care about that. He said, "I can't find Vickie. Nobody's seen her!"

  Before Rusty could respond to that, a familiar voice said, "Logan!"

  Relief flooded through him as he turned around sharply and saw her standing there. Several strands of her dark hair had come loose and dangled around her face. Smudges of soot streaked across her forehead and her left cheek. Her eyebrows appeared to have been partially singed off.

  Logan thought she was beautiful.

  Without thinking about what he was doing, he put his arms around her and drew her against him. She came willingly and pressed her head against his chest. A sob wracked her. She said, "It's gone, all gone!"

  "I know," he told her as he held her. "I know. But you're alive and right now that's all that matters."

  He comforted her as best he could for several long minutes while the boarding house burned. The roof collapsed, sending more smoke and a towering column of sparks high into the air. Vickie tried to look, but Logan turned so that she couldn't.

  "No need for you to see that," he said. "You just hang on to me."

  He didn't waste time wondering why she had turned to him in this moment of horrifying loss. It was enough that she had. And because she had, he was determined not to let her down. After a few more moments he slid his good arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the scene of devastation. Rusty followed them, still carrying Logan's cane.

  When they reached the edge of the crowd, Rusty lowered the tailgate of a parked wagon and helped Vickie lift herself onto it so she could sit and rest. Logan asked her, "Did everyone get out of the house all right? No one was trapped in there?"

  She shook her head. "As far as I know, old Mrs. Parkhurst and I were the only ones in the house when the fire started, and I saw her a few minutes ago. She was worried that I hadn't gotten out in time." She lifted a hand and gingerly touched a bloody lump on the side of her head, an injury that Logan hadn't noticed until now. "I almost didn't."

  "What happened? Did something fall on you?"

  "No. The man who started the fire hit me. He knocked me out and left me in there to die."

  A chill colder than that fateful Christmas Eve in Montana Territory gripped Logan's insides.

  "Someone started the fire?" he said.

  "Yes. I smelled coal oil and went into the kitchen to see about it. A man I'd never seen before was pouring the stuff around the pantry and the stove. I suppose he wanted to make the fire look like an accident. I realized what he was doing and tried to stop him, but he took out his gun and hit me with it."

  And then left her there to die, Logan thought. That would have been nothing less than murder. A white-hot flame of rage began to counter the coldness inside him.

  "I guess it was more of a glancing blow than he intended," Vickie went on. "It stunned me. I think I even lost consciousness for a few minutes. But I came to with the kitchen burning around me and was able to get out before the flames spread to the front of the house and blocked the door. It was just luck." She glanced toward the scene of devastation up the block. "Yes, I was lucky."

  The bitter tone in her voice made Logan say, "You are lucky. You could have died in there, very easily."

  "Instead I just lost everything except my life."

  Rusty said, "You can start over. You have dozens of friends in Hot Springs, Vickie, you know that."

  "A divorced, adulterous woman has no friends," she said.

  "I don't believe that," Logan said without hesitation. "I don't believe any of it."

  "My husband divorced me. That's a matter of public record."

  Logan shook his head stubbornly. "Doesn't mean he was telling the truth about the rest of it."

  She stared at him for a long moment. Then she leaned forward and put her arms around him again, this time wrapping them around his neck so she could pull his face down to her and press her mouth to his in an urgent kiss.

  Gillian Baldwin had kissed him on the train to Little Rock, but it was nothing like this. A heat more intense than the water from those mineral springs flowed between them. Logan forgot everything else for the moment except the sensation of kissing Vickie Eastland.

  Then Rusty said, "I never believed that scoundrel Carleton, either, and all it ever got me was maybe an extra piece of pie now and then."

  Vickie started to laugh, even while her lips were still pressed to Logan's. She slid her arms down from his neck and looped them around his waist as she collapsed against him. Logan laughed, too, and said, "I'll bet it was good pie, though."

  "It was," Rusty admitted.

  Vickie looked up and said, "He lied, Logan. Carleton lied, and so did that man he paid off to claim he'd gone to bed with me. They stuck to their stories in court, and there was nothing I could do about it. I think Carleton must have already reached an agreement with Aaron Nash to marry Elizabeth, because he had one of Nash's lawyers representing him. It was an ugly business, and when I saw what was going to happen anyway, I didn't fight it anymore. I just wanted it to be over with."

  "I don't blame you," Logan told her. "But you really ought to try to make people understand the truth."

  She shook her head. "I don't care anymore. I really don't. I just want to be left alone to live my life." She looked over her shoulder toward the house again. "And now that's gone."

  "It can be rebuilt. We'll figure out a way."

  "Plenty of folks'll pitch in to help," Rusty added. "You'll see."

  A grim look settled over Logan's face as he went on, "In the meantime, there's the matter of finding the man who did this. You said you'd never seen him before?"

  "No, he was a complete stranger to me," Vickie said. "I can't figure out why he would want to kill me and destroy my house."

  "Must've been loco," Rusty said. "It'd take a madman to do something like that."

  Nodding, Vickie said, "He looked like a madman, leering at me with that awful scar on his face."

  Logan stiffened. He reached out with both hands and took hold of her shoulders. "The man had a scar on his face?
"

  "Yes, like this." Her finger traced a line on her cheek, running back toward her right ear.

  Logan realized he wasn't really surprised. There was no doubt in his mind that Jim Meadows was responsible for what had happened here, and he even had a pretty good idea why. Meadows wanted to get Logan off his trail. He must have looked into Logan's life here in Hot Springs the past few months enough to suspect that there might be a link between him and Vickie. Meadows could have hoped that the death of a woman Logan cared for would distract him from the job he was supposed to do for Marcus Baldwin.

  Meadows had always been ruthless, but now he had turned into a mad dog, Logan thought.

  And there was only one way to deal with a mad dog . . .

  25.

  Logan took his cane back from Rusty. The fear that went through him when he saw the boarding house on fire had made him forget about his crippled condition for the time being, but he knew that wouldn't last. His bad leg might be stronger, but it would get tired sooner than the other one and he would need the cane to get around.

  For the time being, Vickie and Rusty would need a place to stay. Logan took them to the hotel and got rooms for them.

  "This will go on Marcus Baldwin's account," he told the clerk at the desk.

  The man frowned and said, "I really ought to check with Mr. Baldwin about that – "

  "I'm on my way to his house right now," Logan broke in. "I'll tell him. If he doesn't agree, he can do something about it then."

  Vickie put a hand on his arm and said, "Logan, I don't want you getting into trouble."

  "It's too long a story for me to explain right now," Logan told her, "but Baldwin played a part in what happened today. I'm going to ask him to put up the other boarders here at the hotel as well, and I think he ought to loan you the money to rebuild the boarding house."

  Baldwin would agree to that if he wanted Logan to work for him in the future.

  Even if Baldwin fired him, though, he was still going after Jim Meadows. The gunman had sealed his fate when he tried to murder Vickie.

  The clerk gave them room keys. Logan said to Rusty, "I'm leaving it in your hands to see that Vickie is taken care of."

  "Sure, don't worry your head about that," Rusty told him.

  "I've gotten pretty good at taking care of myself," Vickie said, the crisp tone of her voice telling Logan that she was a little annoyed with him. He couldn't help that. Now that he had admitted to himself – and to her – the feelings he'd had for her all along, he felt a natural urge to protect her.

  But they could work out all of that later, after the threat of Meadows was dealt with.

  Vickie drew him aside in the lobby before she and Rusty went upstairs.

  "I'm sorry I . . . I never told you how I felt toward you," she said quietly. "Because of what happened with Carleton, I didn't want to trust you. I didn't want to trust any man, ever again."

  "I can't blame you for that," Logan said. "Unfortunately, being involved with a man like me isn't going to help your reputation much."

  "I think you're a fine man."

  "The rest of the world doesn't agree with you. As far as most people are concerned, I'm nothing but a hired killer. A two-bit gunman."

  "You and Rusty tried to convince me I was wrong about not having friends. Maybe you need to listen to your own advice."

  "Maybe so," he said with a faint smile. "But for now I've got something to deal with."

  She studied him keenly for a second, then said, "That man who hit me and burned down my house . . . you know him, don't you?"

  "All too well," Logan said.

  "And you're going after him."

  "Somebody has to stop him before he does more damage."

  Vickie gripped his good arm. "Logan, it took a disaster to get the two of us to say what we've been feeling. Please, don't go off and get yourself killed now."

  "I don't intend to, now or any other time." He wasn't going to let himself think about the problems that might crop up in the future as word spread to his old enemies about his condition. Jim Meadows wasn't the only man who wanted to put a bullet him.

  One thing at a time, though. Stop Meadows now. That was his only goal.

  He leaned down and kissed Vickie again before he left the hotel. His limp had never gone away completely, and it was getting worse again now, the longer he was on his feet, so he was glad Rusty had brought along the cane.

  He still had plenty to do before he could rest.

  And now that he had thought about it, he wasn't going to start with Marcus Baldwin after all.

  * * *

  Logan could tell from the guilty start Aaron Nash made that the man was up to something. Logan pushed past Nash's secretary into the timber magnate's office anyway. The secretary was a slender man and wasn't able to put up much resistance, especially with the anger that Logan had fueling him right now.

  Nash was standing behind his desk. He reached down toward an open drawer, and for a second Logan thought the man was reaching for a gun. He had brought the scattergun with him, and he was ready to swing it up and convince Nash that would be a mistake.

  Then Nash shoved the drawer closed and Logan heard the faint clink of glass against glass inside it. Nash had been getting himself a drink, he realized, even though it wasn't quite the middle of the day yet.

  "Here now," Nash blustered. "What's the meaning of this?" His eyes narrowed under bushy brows. "Wait a minute. I know you."

  "You ought to," Logan said. "We met at Marcus Baldwin's house a while back. I'm Logan Handley."

  "The cripple." Maybe Nash had had more than one drink. His voice was a little slurred. He rested both fists on the desk to steady himself. "What do you want?"

  "Tell me where I can find Jim Meadows."

  Nash stared at him for a second, then shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Sure you do," Logan said as he moved deeper into the room.

  Behind him, the secretary said, "I'm going to send for the marshal."

  Without looking around, Logan said, "You go right ahead and do that. I can tell him about how Nash's hired killer burned down Vickie Eastland's boarding house and tried to murder her."

  The secretary hesitated. "Mr. Nash . . .?"

  "Go on," Nash said with a curt gesture. "Close the door behind you."

  When the man was gone, Nash continued, "I heard there was a big fire. Mrs. Eastland's boarding house, eh?"

  "Burned to the ground," Logan said. "It's sheer luck that she wasn't in it."

  "Then she . . . survived."

  "She did. That means she can identify Meadows in court. What do you reckon's going to happen when he gets on the stand? You think maybe he's going to say that everything he did was at your orders, Nash?"

  "I never ordered him to burn down that boarding house!" Nash burst out. "I never told him to hurt Mrs. Eastland, either." He looked down at the desk and muttered, "Poor woman's already had enough trouble in her life."

  "Which you had a hand in. You helped your son-in-law get shed of his wife so he could marry your daughter. You bought her a husband . . . just not much of one."

  "You'd think a cripple would have a little more sympathy toward people."

  "I don't have time for sympathy right now," Logan said. "Just tell me where I can find Meadows."

  "How the hell should I know? The man doesn't keep me informed about his comings and goings! He just shows up when he wants to."

  "Then you admit he's been working for you, causing trouble for Baldwin."

  Nash shook his head and said, "Outside of this room, I admit nothing. And you'll have a hard time proving anything, too."

  "Maybe I'll settle for killing Meadows." Both of Logan's hands tightened on the scattergun. "And if you don't stop trying to ruin Baldwin's operation . . ."

  "You'll do what?" Nash challenged. "Come back here and shoot me, just like the bloody-handed gunman you are? I know about you, Handley. You're no better than an outlaw yourself."
<
br />   Logan drew in a deep breath through his nose. He said, "Maybe I wasn't. Maybe that's changed." He paused. "Reckon it's still too soon to tell."

  The menace in his voice was unmistakable. Nash met his level stare for a moment, then sighed and slumped down into the chair behind the desk.

  "I swear, I don't know where Meadows is. If I did, I think I'd tell you, just on the chance that the two of you bastards would kill each other. But I don't know."

  Logan didn't want to admit it to himself, but he believed that Nash was telling the truth. An uncharacteristic air of defeat had settled over the man. At this moment, Nash was no longer the hard-nosed businessman he had been when Logan first met him.

  "If he shows up here, you'd be wise to call the law," Logan said. "I'd say that's your only chance now, Nash. Help stop him before he kills somebody else."

  "He hasn't killed anyone," Nash muttered.

  "Not for lack of trying. And he's killed plenty in the past. Less than a year ago he tried to blow up a couple of hundred people just to cause a diversion while he robbed the safe in a mining syndicate's office. That's the kind of snake you've been dealing with."

  Logan turned and walked out of the office, past the sullen secretary in the outer office, and into the street. Frustration gnawed at his guts. He didn't know where to look for Meadows now, so he supposed he might as well check in with Baldwin and let the man know he'd be paying for those hotel rooms and to help Vickie rebuild the boarding house.

  Maybe Aaron Nash would kick in something, too, Logan thought as he strode toward Baldwin's office. It was the least he could do after bringing a monster like Jim Meadows to Hot Springs.

  * * *

  Nash was reaching for the bottle and glass in the drawer again when the door opened and Carleton Eastland came in. From behind Eastland, the secretary said, "I tried to tell Mr. Eastland he'd have to come back later – "

  "Forget it," Nash said. He waved the secretary away. "Clearly this is my day to be disturbed."

  Eastland closed the door, shutting out the secretary, and then turned to face the desk. He said, "Oh, you're going to be disturbed, Aaron. I suspect you're going to be very disturbed."