Evil Never Sleeps

by William W. Johnstone

  “He might be makin’ a lotta sense,” Dolly interrupted, “if he can really raise the money to do all he’s talkin’ about.”

  Starting to get interested after Dolly’s comment, Luke hesitated before asking, “How do I know you can raise the money you’re talkin’ about?”

  “I don’t have to raise any money,” Preacher replied. “I’m talkin’ about cash money, ready to get started. And if I go into this place, I’ll already have a building, so I might get most of the fixin’ up done by the time a hard winter hits.”

  Luke finally began to see the potential offered him with this rich dude paying all the cost. He hesitated only a moment more before attempting to sweeten his part of the deal. “Dolly said you were talkin’ about a sixty-forty split.” When Preacher nodded, Luke went on. “Well, that ain’t gonna happen. The best you’ll do is a fifty-fifty split and I’d have to approve everything you do to the place.”

  “You’re a better businessman than I thought,” Preacher said. “All right, then, fifty-fifty, but I’ll have all the say about how I spend my money fixin’ up the place.”

  His quick acceptance surprised both Luke and Dolly, so much so that Luke decided to press for more. “All right,” he echoed. “Now let’s talk about how much you’re gonna give me for a piece of my building.”

  Preacher responded with a wry smile of amusement. “Not a nickel,” he said. “I’m payin’ for all the fixin’ up and you ain’t investin’ a damn penny.”

  “It was worth a try, partner,” Luke said, and extended his hand, a wide grin across his unshaven face. They shook on it.

  “Now, I need a room to stay in,” Preacher said. “Have you got one that’s halfway clean?”

  “You can take the room next to mine, behind the kitchen,” Dolly said. “Ain’t nobody been in that room for six months.” She still found it hard to believe Preacher settled for a fifty-fifty split with Luke. She knew that she wouldn’t have. She held the same opinion of Luke that Preacher had had from the start, and she could imagine that Luke would more likely get in the way of turning the Prairie Palace into the fancy bordello that this strange new partner talked about. Had she known more about the man calling himself Gaylord Pressley, she would have figured that he accepted the deal for the simple reason he wasn’t planning to have Luke around for much longer.

  “You show him the room,” Luke said to Dolly. “I gotta get some coffee and see if I can get rid of this damn headache.”

  Dolly waited for Preacher to get his saddlebags and rifle off his horse, then she led him through the kitchen to the back hallway. “This is my room,” she said as they passed the first door. When they got to the next door, she handed him a key. “These are the only rooms in the house with locks on the doors. The girls live upstairs.”

  “What about Luke?” Preacher asked. “Is that his room?” He motioned toward the next room on the hallway.”

  “No, he likes to stay upstairs where the girls sleep. He uses the last room at the end of the hall by the back stairs.”

  “Does he get drunk like that every day?” Preacher asked.

  She grinned. “Unless it rains, then he gets twice as drunk.”

  “Looks to me like he ain’t much use around here,” Preacher said. “Looks like you’re runnin’ the place all by yourself.” He shook his head as if in concern. “Man does a lot of drinkin’ like that is liable to find out it’ll do him in.”

  “Try to tell him that,” Dolly said. “Might as well talk to that door over there.”

  “Well, if he’s gonna be my partner, I’ll expect him to pull his weight around here. I aim to make this the place to come to spend your money.”

  His comment brought a smile to her face. She was just beginning to imagine how it would be to be part of a fancy place like he described. There was one worry, however, and she felt she had to know. “From what you said a while ago, sounds like you’re thinkin’ about gettin’ rid of some of the girls.”

  “Hell, yeah,” he quickly replied. “Them girls you’re talkin’ about are more like old ladies. We’ve got to get some younger stock in here to entertain the customers we’re goin’ after. You get a rich cattle buyer from Chicago to stay here, he ain’t gonna want a woman that looks like his grandma.”

  “Reckon that means me, too,” she said.

  “Hell, no,” he replied, just as quickly as before. “You’re still the manager. I told you that right off. I think me and you are gonna make this business go. I’ll work on ol’ Luke and maybe we’ll get some help outta him.” He formed a wide grin for her. “Now, let’s see about gettin’ some supper. Have we got a decent cook?”

  “We sure do. Rena can cook with the best of them,” Dolly assured him.

  “Good,” Preacher said. “You tell her to cook up somethin’ while I take my horses down to the stable and we’ll celebrate our new partnership.”

  * * *

  Paul Perry was duly impressed by Preacher when he came into his stable, just as Dolly Plover had been. The big, broad-shouldered stranger was dressed like the moneyed gentry that usually came through El Dorado in the summer on their way to the cattle markets in Wichita. But there was also a cruel, rugged look about the man that suggested he might have known the harder way of life as well. “Evenin’,” Paul greeted him. “You lookin’ to stable your horses for the night?”

  “Nope,” Preacher replied. “I’m lookin’ to get your best rate to stable my horses from now on. If you give me a fair rate, I won’t have to build a barn and corral myself.”

  Not expecting such a response, Paul said, “I figured you were passin’ through town on your way to Wichita. I’ll sure give you a fair rate.” Before he did, however, he had to satisfy his curiosity. “What brings you to El Dorado?”

  “I just bought the Prairie Palace,” Preacher replied. “I’m plannin’ to fix it up to where it’ll bring more folks to town.”

  “You don’t say . . .” Perry uttered in surprise. “Well, welcome to El Dorado.” He extended his hand and said, “I’m Paul Perry and I’ll take good care of your horses for you.”

  “Gaylord Pressley,” Preacher replied, shaking Paul’s hand.

  “Well, I’ll be . . .” Paul went on. “So ol’ Luke sold out to you. I didn’t think he’d ever let go of that place. It was doin’ just enough business to keep him in whiskey. What’s he gonna do now?”

  “He’ll still be here. He’ll stay on at the Prairie Palace, kinda like my partner.”

  “Well, he oughta be happy about that,” Paul reckoned, then asked, “Is Dolly stayin’ on?” Preacher assured him that she was.

  When he had concluded his arrangement with Perry, Preacher left the stable and returned to the Prairie Palace. Supper was ready when he got there, and as Dolly had declared, Rena cooked a good meal for them. Preacher did his best to keep the talk at the table friendly and positive with much speculation on the saloon’s promise in the future. Luke merely dawdled with his supper and soon became glassy-eyed, since his coffee cup held rye whiskey instead of coffee. The first to get up from the table, Luke announced he was going to the outhouse and then going up to his room.

  “Good idea,” Preacher said. “When I finish my supper, I’ll grab a bottle of that whiskey you’ve been drinkin’ and I’ll come up and have a drink with you. We’ve got a lot to celebrate after what we agreed on today.” He looked at Dolly, laughed, and shook his head when Luke made no response, even seeming not to have heard him. As he stumbled toward the back door, Preacher chuckled and said to Dolly, “I don’t think he heard a word I said. I’ll go up later and have that drink with him. It’ll kinda make our deal official.”

  * * *

  “Bet you didn’t think anything big was gonna happen today when you got up this mornin’,” Dolly commented to Rena Peters after Preacher left the kitchen and went to his room.

  “I surely didn’t think nothin’ like this was ever gonna happen,” Rena replied. “He just blew in here like a big ol’ dust storm.” She paused to think a
bout it. “How much money you reckon he’s really got? He’s doin’ some awful big talk.”

  “Acts like he’s got all the money in the world, don’t he?” Dolly responded. “I hope to hell it ain’t all talk. I’d like to see this place fixed up like he’s talkin’ about.” She laughed then. “I don’t think poor Luke knows what he’s in for. He ain’t gonna have any say on what Mr. Pressley does with his business.”

  “Gaylord,” Rena said with a giggle, reminding Dolly of his first name, “Gaylord Pressley, ain’t that a fancy name?” They both giggled. “Luke didn’t hang around long at the table, did he? I think he still ain’t figured out what happened to him today.”

  “I reckon Gaylord is gonna try to straighten Luke out,” Dolly said. “He had me get him a bottle of rye whiskey, the kind Luke likes, and he gave me the money for it, said he promised Luke he’d go upstairs and have a drink with him. And, honey, you shoulda seen the roll of money he pulled outta his pocket to pay me. It’d choke a horse.”

  * * *

  After the women had finished cleaning the kitchen and Dolly had gone to the front parlor to receive any customers that might happen to call, Preacher picked up the bottle of whiskey and went up the stairs to the small room at the end of the hall. Turning the knob, he pushed the door slowly open until he could see the unconscious man lying on the bed. He went on inside and walked over to stand beside the bed. Sleeping like a baby, he thought. “We’ll have that drink to celebrate our partnership,” he muttered as he pulled the cork out of the bottle and took a healthy swig from it. Then he placed the bottle down on the dresser beside the bed, pulled the pillow out from under Luke’s head, and hesitated to see if he would waken. When he did no more than grunt a few incoherent sounds, Preacher clamped the pillow down firmly over Luke’s face, making sure his mouth and nose were covered. There was no reaction from Luke at first. In a few seconds, he began to move slightly in an attempt to get air. A few seconds more and he started to struggle, but to no avail. Then he suddenly became conscious enough to realize he could not breathe and he fought frantically for breath. Helpless to fight against the powerful hands that clamped down even tighter, he began to kick and twist, again to no avail. After a few more minutes, he finally relaxed in death. To be certain, Preacher continued smothering him for several minutes longer before releasing him.

  He grabbed Luke by the hair and raised his head while he placed the pillow under it. Then he splashed a little from the bottle around the empty glass on the floor beside the bed. After taking another drink himself, he walked to the window, raised it, and poured out almost all of the remaining whiskey. That done, he placed the bottle beside the glass on the floor, threw his head back, and laughed loudly. Pleased with his results, he gave Luke one last look. Been nice doing business with you, Luke, he thought, and walked to the door. He began talking as he opened the door, in a voice loud enough to be sure he would be overheard. “Yeah, Luke, I believe we’re gonna do a lot of business together. Glad we worked it all out. You go easy on that bottle, though. I think we both mighta hit that whiskey pretty hard. See you in the mornin’.” He smiled to himself when he passed the room next to Luke’s and noticed the door slightly ajar, enough for someone inside to hear. Satisfied with himself now, he went back downstairs to his room.

  * * *

  “Good mornin’,” Rena greeted him when he walked into the kitchen. “You’re an early riser. Coffee’s ready and breakfast is on the way.” She poured a cup of coffee for him and placed it on the table when he sat down. “You sleep all right in that old bed?”

  “Like a baby,” Preacher answered, “couldn’ta had a better night.” He made a point to look over his shoulder toward the door. “Has Luke been down yet?”

  “Not yet,” Dolly answered him as she walked in. “It’s a little early for him. He’ll come stumblin’ in after a while.” She poured herself a cup and sat down at the table opposite Preacher. “I didn’t expect to see you this early.”

  He gave her a wide grin. “Why not? There’s a lot to be done. I’ve gotta get to know the other folks in town, make sure they understand things are gonna be different around here. I’ll wait for Luke to get up, so he can go with me.”

  Dolly and Rena exchanged amused glances before Dolly remarked, “Luke don’t usually show up downstairs till just before noon. And if you and him did much drinkin’ last night, we might not see him till afternoon.”

  “He’s gonna have to get started a little earlier than that,” Preacher said, just as the young prostitute he had seen eating the biscuit when he first arrived came into the kitchen. He stopped her on her way to the stove and the coffeepot. “Wait a minute, there, darlin’,” he said. “What’s your name?”

  “Angel,” the frightened girl replied, afraid that she might have already done something to anger him.

  “Angel, huh?” Preacher responded. “Well, Angel, why don’t you run upstairs to Luke’s room and tell him I need him down here right now? We’ve got to get started on some of the things we talked about last night.”

  Angel hesitated, unsure. “Luke don’t like for nobody to bother him in the mornin’.” She looked at Dolly for confirmation, but Dolly just smiled and nodded toward the door.

  “It’ll be all right this mornin’,” Preacher said to her. “You tell him I sent you up there to get him outta bed. We got things to do, ain’t we, Dolly?” He gave Dolly a wink. “Pour me another cup of that coffee.” Dolly got up to get his coffee while Angel headed for the stairs. He had barely sipped his fresh coffee when they heard Angel’s scream from upstairs. “What the hell . . .” Dolly blurted, and paused to listen. When Angel continued to yell, she scrambled out of her chair and headed for the stairs with Preacher and Rena right behind her.

  By the time they reached the second floor, both of the older prostitutes were in the hall with Angel and she was standing in front of Luke’s door, frantically pointing into the room. “What is it, girl?” Preacher asked, pushing his way past the women.

  “It’s Luke!” Angel exclaimed. “He’s dead!”

  “Whaddaya mean, he’s dead,” Preacher replied, playing his part. “Dead drunk, maybe, did you try to wake him up?”

  “Yes, sir, I tapped him on the shoulder two or three times and he didn’t move a muscle.” She suffered an involuntary little shudder when she added, “The look on his face, it’s like he saw the devil or something.”

  “It does look like it,” Dolly said, standing at Preacher’s shoulder.

  “Maybe he did,” Preacher said. Then he reached down, grabbed Luke by the shoulder, and shook him violently. “He’s dead, all right, he’s already got stiff, musta died in his sleep.”

  “Musta died in his sleep right next door to me while I was sleepin’,” Angel said, and shuddered again with the thought. “He was all right last night. I heard him and you talkin’ when you left his room.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t give no sign that anything was botherin’ him,” Preacher said. “I reckon whiskey finally got him.” He pointed to the almost empty bottle beside the bed. “He sure as hell hit that bottle hard after I left. He ain’t the first man that whiskey has done in.” He turned to Dolly. “Who’s the man in town to take care of the buryin’? I expect we’d best get ahold of him right quick before ol’ Luke starts to get too ripe.” He glanced at the gathered faces and saw no sign of grief in any of them. It didn’t surprise him.

  “That would be Tom Hawkins,” Dolly answered. “He’s the barber and undertaker and the closest thing we’ve got to a doctor.” She turned to Angel. “Why don’t you run down the street and fetch him, honey?”

  Already over the shock of trying to wake a dead man, Angel responded with a pained expression. “Can I have my coffee first? I was just startin’ to get it when Gaylord sent me up here.”

  Before Dolly could answer, Preacher said, “Yeah, drink your coffee, ol’ Luke ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He looked at Rena then. “Matter of fact, we might as well go ahead and eat some breakfast.”


  “My biscuits!” Rena almost screamed as she turned and ran from the room, having forgotten they were still in the oven.

  * * *

  There was plenty of time before Tom Hawkins showed up to pick up Luke Barton’s body, so the inhabitants of the Prairie Palace enjoyed a hearty breakfast, even if the biscuits were baked a little too brown. “It’s a funny thing, ain’t it? I mean how things worked out,” Preacher remarked. “I reckon it was mighty lucky I came along right when I did to keep this place goin’. I don’t know what you folks woulda done, if I hadn’t come along.”

  Everybody nodded in agreement, although the two older women had not yet been told that they were soon to be sent packing. And Dolly thought to herself, I know what we would have done, the Prairie Palace would be mine and good enough to take care of my needs without any fancy improvements. It was a thought that she had entertained more than once before on prior occasions when Luke had drunk so much that he didn’t come out of his room for most of the day. She had no choice now, but to hope Gaylord’s arrival would indeed bring the prosperity he promised.

  When Tom Hawkins pulled his buckboard up in front of the house, Preacher introduced himself and went upstairs with him to help carry the corpse down. “I can stick him in the ground with a wooden cross for twenty dollars,” Hawkins said. “For seventy-five, I can give you a small marble headstone with ‘Rest in Peace’ engraved on it.”

  “Well, then,” Preacher replied. “We’ll take the seventy-five-dollar funeral. I didn’t have time to get to know the feller, but he was my partner the short time I’ve been here, so that’s the least I can do for him.” He pulled a roll of bills from his pocket, peeled off seventy-five, and handed them to Hawkins. His intention was to impress the barber, and from the reaction on Tom’s face, he was satisfied that he had. Before he was through, Preacher planned to own El Dorado and everybody in it. He smiled to himself when he thought about the twist of fate that brought him to El Dorado, loaded with enough money to build the business he had always wanted. He owed a special thanks to U.S. Deputy Marshal Will Tanner for luring Elmo and Lon out of that cave up in the Arbuckle Mountains. Tanner was the name of the deputy looking around Wichita for Preacher McCoy. The desk clerk at the Parker House told him that and Preacher had a notion he was the same lawman who’d tricked Elmo and Lon out of the cave. The son of a bitch must have trailed me all the way from Oklahoma, he thought. But Preacher had lain low until he’d heard that Tanner didn’t find the man he’d hunted and was no longer in town. Only then did Gaylord Pressley reappear around town after being confined to his hotel room with a slight case of consumption.