Jessie met the girl’s eyes and felt a chill touch the back of her neck. She was young, and almost a striking beauty. She was also a professional assassin, and most likely meant just what she said. Jessica Starbuck or anyone else was a job and nothing more—a person who should have been cold meat right now, instead of standing up, talking to her killer.
“Thanks,” she told the girl calmly. “Knowing that sure makes me feel a whole lot better.”
Chapter 3
If Jessica Starbuck had simply wanted to see Roster, Kansas, she could have accomplished that without stepping off the train. The whole town was visible from the window of her compartment. Past the one-room depot was Main, fronted on either side by two saloons, the hotel and livery, and half a dozen other squat structures baking in the sun. From the tracks to the last building in town was a bare two hundred yards. After that, a person was either leaving town or just coming in.
Jessie stepped off the Kansas Pacific seconds before the squealing brakes brought the train to a halt. She was calm and relaxed now—her encounter with Lucy Jordan had taken care of that. There were no more uncertainties about the way things were. The enemy had shown his hand and the battle lines were drawn.
“Hey, look.” Jessie touched Ki’s arm and nodded to the right. “There’s our friend getting off now. Lord, Ki, I guess it is, anyhow. That girl is sure some granny!”
“Yes,” Ki said soberly, “indeed she is.” He followed Jessie’s glance three coaches down, where a pair of conductors were marching Lucy Jordan past the tracks toward the town marshal’s office. Without the heavy cotton padding of her disguise, she was truly a sight worth seeing. No one in Roster was going to mistake her for an old lady now. She wore a light blue, form-fitting gown laced with narrow white ribbon. The hot Kansas sun made rivers of light in her hair, turning amber to brass. Lucy held her head high and proud, stalking well ahead of her guards: Her long, determined stride emphasized the slender lines of her body, and an ample supply of womanly curves.
Ki pulled his eyes away and found Jessie grinning. “Not hard to guess what you’re thinking,” she said lightly. “They’re not making assassins like they used to, are they?”
“No. I suppose this is true.” He cleared his throat and squinted past Lucy down the street. “Are we going to find Tom Bridger now, or go first to the hotel?”
“Both and neither, I guess. I’d like to follow Lucy over to the jail. You and I are the only ones who can tell the law what happened back there. We ought to get it settled.” Jessie frowned past the tracks. “That girl’s dangerous, Ki. I’d just as soon make sure she’s not running around loose somewhere.”
Ki picked up their two leather valises and followed Jessie past the depot and the first saloon to the town marshal’s office. The scene inside the office set her green eyes blazing. Lucy Jordan was perched in a chair looking scared, and all of fifteen years old. Her hands were crossed primly in her lap, a gesture that somehow managed to press her young breasts up high. Her big doe eyes were locked on the marshal, and tears streamed down her cheeks. The marshal wasn’t even listening to the trainmen. He was having Lucy for supper, and starting on dessert.
When the front door slammed, the lawman jerked around, irritation crossing his weathered features. “All right, damn it, who do you think you—” He got a look at Jessie and his eyes went wide. One breathtaking beauty in Roster was an event. Two were a little more than he could handle. “Uh—yes, ma‘am?” he grinned sheepishly. “I’m Marshal Gaiter. What can I do for you?”
“You can start by putting your eyes back in your head,” Jessie said coolly. “After that, we can get down to business, Marshal.”
“Uh—well, sure...” The lawman shuffled his worn boots on the wide-plank floor. He blushed hotly. “You like a chair, Miss—”
“Starbuck. Jessica Starbuck. And this is my friend, Ki.”
The marshal blinked. “Are you that—”
“Right. That Starbuck.” She nodded to the conductors. “These two gentlemen tell you what happened on the train?”
“They was starting to. Only I can’t hardly believe this pretty little chile—”
“Believe it,” snapped Jessie. “This child tried to kill me. With this.”
She reached behind her, pulled open her valise, and tossed the Smith & Wesson at the marshal.
“I never even saw that awful thing before!” bawled Lucy.
“Shut up,” said Jessie. Reaching further into the satchel, she dumped the cotton-padded gown, patterned shawl, several tins of makeup and powder, and a bristly gray wig on the floor. “Here’s her grandma suit. You’ll need it at the trail.” She looked at the two conductors. “If you make out some statements before you leave town, I’d be grateful. Guess you need to be getting back, if that’s all right with the marshal here?”
“Yeah, sure,” Marshal Gaiter grunted. He cast a leary eye at Lucy Jordan. “I’m real disappointed in you, young lady. Damned if I’m not.”
“None of this is true,” pouted Lucy. “Not a word of it, sir. Just ‘cause she’s a rich lady an’ I’m poor—”
“Uh-huh.” The marshal’s hard face softened. “Well now, I reckon you’ll have a chance to tell your side.” Reluctantly he led Lucy to a cell past the rear door of his office, and then rejoined Jessie and Ki. He was a gaunt, weathered man with a tobacco-stained beard. When he moved, he took time planning his route, and Jessie guessed he’d gotten the job because there wasn’t much to it, and nobody else in Roster wanted it.
“You be in town a while, Miss Starbuck? Reason I’m askin’ is, Roster’s not all that big to keep a judge busy full time. Don’t know when we’ll get around to having a trial.” He looked over his shoulder and made a face. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with her, if we get a couple of drunks or something. Hell, I only got one cell.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Jessie said blandly. “Lucy won’t hurt them unless she gets her hands on a weapon. Oh, I almost forgot,” she added, giving the lawman her best smile. “You can help me if you will. I have some contacts here, but I know the marshal has his finger on what’s really happening. You know?”
The old lawman swelled at Jessie’s remark. “Why, I’ll sure do what I can.”
“Good.” Jessie leaned forward on her chair. “I’m here on business concerning the new group of farmers in your county. Do you know them at all? The immigrants from Europe?”
The marshal shrugged and scratched his ear. “Know of ‘em. What there is to know, which ain’t a lot. They’re a peaceful bunch. Don’t cause any trouble.”
“Do you know any of them personally? They must come in town to buy supplies and things.”
“Most folks do, but these is some different. Don’t buy much of anything, what I hear. Or get into Roster, either. Stick pretty much to themselves.”
“And you don’t know any of them by name?” Jessie persisted.
“Don’t have any cause to,” Gaiter said bluntly. “Isn’t any of ‘em got in trouble. Have their own little settlement out to Firelick Creek, and a kinda . . . elder, or somethin’, to keep the peace.” The marshal shrugged and cleared his throat. “Don’t hold much with foreigners myself, but—” He stopped abruptly and looked at Ki. “No offense, of course, mister. I will say those folks tend to their own business.”
Jessie looked down at her boots, and then back to the marshal. “Does anyone bother them?”
“Huh?” The marshal closed one eye. “You mean folks ‘round here? Naw. Nothing out there to bother. Why’d you think that?”
Jessie stood quickly. “I’m very grateful, Marshal Gaiter. Thank you for your time. Where’s Tom Bridger’s place? Right down the street, I guess?”
The marshal pulled himself together and gave her a curious look. “Damn, that’s right, ain’t it? Bridger did work for Starbuck, didn’t he?”
“What?” Jessie caught the man’s words and frowned. “You said did work, marhsal. As far as I know—”
The marshal stopped her with
a hand and walked past Jessie to the door. “Tom’s place is straight down on this side of the street. But you ain’t going to find him there, Miss Starbuck. He’s dead. Shot down last night some time. Found him this morning behind the Morgan Dollar.”
“He’s dead?” Jessie’s face flooded with anger. “Damn, Ki!” She turned on Gaiter. “Do you know who killed him?”
“Nope.” The marshal shook his head. “Likely never will, either. Someone just come up to him and poked a Greener shotgun in his belly and pulled the trigger. Didn’t hardly make any noise.” He cleared his throat and set his lips. “Made a helluva mess, though. Whoever it was took Tom’s watch, and whatever money he had on him.”
“Of course,” Jessie said evenly. “A back-alley robbery.”
“Looks like it.” Gaiter frowned at Jessie’s expression. “Why? You think it was somethin’ else?”
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t...” said Jessie.
“There’s only one reason they’d kill him,” she said outside. “Tom’s the one who alerted us to this business in the first place. He knew something about what the cartel’s up to here, Ki. Something he didn’t want to put in a telegram.”
“Most likely,” Ki agreed. “Or they simply killed him as an extra warning to us. They are quite capable of that.”
“I won’t argue the point,” Jessie said flatly. “Only I don’t think that’s it. Tom knew more than he was saying, or he wouldn’t have rung the bell on Roster.” She sighed and squinted down the street. “Why don’t you go on over to the hotel and get us settled in? I’m going to walk down and see if any of Bridger’s people know anything. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. Then maybe we can ride out to that settlement before dark.” She caught Ki’s look and shot him a grin. “Hey, I’ll be all right, old friend.”
“Perhaps Tom Bridger thought so too.”
Jessie raised an eyebrow. “They caught him at night in the dark. Nothing’s going to happen in the middle of Roster, Kansas, in daylight.” She glanced down the bright empty street. “Doesn’t look to me like much ever has.”
“Probably not,” Ki said flatly. “But they haven’t had Jessica Starbuck here before.”
Jessie laughed. “You make me sound like trouble.”
“I don’t think I will answer that. In the interest of good relations.”
Tom Bridger’s place was at the far end of town, Roster’s largest building. Henderson Implements sold everything a man needed to go into farming: plows, seed, harvest machines and tools, and parts to fit anything that broke. And if a man didn’t have a good place to sink his plow, the Green River Land Company, with offices above the store, would help him find one. Both the Henderson and Green River operations were examples of Alex Starbuck’s ability to see a need and fill it. Starbuck’s combined implement and land establishments were scattered all over the fertile Midwest. Managers like Tom Bridger kept the stores well stocked by rail from company warehouses in Kansas City, Omaha, and a half-dozen other major centers, and did a thriving land-office and crop-futures business. These enterprises did a great deal more than increase profits for the company; like townships with a solid bank behind them, they played a big part in ensuring the community’s survival from year to year.
Jessie was well aware of the way the business worked, and of Tom Bridger’s part in it. She knew, too, even before she talked with Bridger’s employees, that they’d be totally unaware of the true reason behind his murder. Still, it was a thing she had to do. As she expected, the clerks and other employees were shocked by the boss’s death, and thought something ought to be done about the increasing lawlessness in Kansas...
Jessie left that dead end behind her and walked back to the hotel to find Ki. There were a lot more people on the street now, most of them men. She could feel their eyes as she passed, but paid them no mind.
The men looked, but kept their peace. Jessica Starbuck was a real beauty, they decided, but there was something about her that made them forget their usual catcalls and whistles. She was a puzzle they weren’t real sure how to handle. All woman for certain—soft, slender, and a pleasure to watch. But at the same time, she walked like a lady who might meet a man face to face and look him right in the eye. They didn’t know many women like that, and weren’t sure they cared to. Still, she was by-God worth walking outdoors to look at. No question at all about that ...
Ki quickly arranged for rooms at the Roster Hotel, dropped off his satchel and Jessie‘s, and walked next door to the Great Atlantic Saloon. The name seemed out of place on that flat Kansas plain, but Ki decided that was probably the whole idea.
At the long wooden bar, he ordered a beer he didn’t want. When he drank at all, he preferred good Scotch whisky. The Atlantic barkeep had likely never heard of any such drink, and Ki wasn’t about to ask.
Half a dozen midday drinkers were scattered about, and all pretended to ignore him. Ki knew they were well aware of who he was—that he was the peculiar-looking Oriental who’d come in on the Kansas Pacific with Jessica Starbuck. He was certain, too, that there were as many fanciful opinions about what he was doing with such a beauty as there were customers in the room. Moreover, Ki’s appearance gave the other drinkers something to think about. While he was dressed the same as most every other man there, in worn denims and plain cotton shirt, he wore no gunbelt, as some did, and only a pair of rope-soled cloth slippers in lieu of the heavy working footwear—boots or high-topped shoes—favored by most men of the region. Unless he was traveling by train and the occasion demanded more formal attire, Ki seldom wore boots or shoes. His training had toughened his feet into lightning-swift, iron-hard weapons, and at the same time had made them almost as sensitive as a second pair of hands. To encase these instruments in tightly bound, cumbersome packages of heavy leather would have been foolish.
There was a fly-specked window to Ki’s left that gave a clear view of Main. As he stood at the bar, the window brought him a scene he found interesting. Torgler, their well-attired traveling companion, walked hurriedly down the street with a shorter, less resplendent friend. Whatever the two were discussing, Ki noted that the friend was clearly getting the worse end of the conversation. He was catching pure hell for something, and Ki would have given much to know what it was.
“You drink beers, mister, or just collect ‘em?”
“What?” Ki turned slightly to see the girl standing behind him. She was young, a girl with a slender, almost delicate figure. Wheat-colored hair framed an upturned nose and a fragile smile. Her eyes were enormous, a startling shade of green sprinkled with bright flecks of gold. They gave her a look of continual curiosity and surprise, and Ki found it hard to pull his gaze away.
“I’m a slow drinker,” he said finally, taking a sip to show her.
“If you was to buy me one, maybe yours’d go faster.” She showed him a lazy smile and sidled up to him. Her gown was cut low, the bodice consisting of faded red feathers that had seen better days. In spite of her willow-slim frame, Ki noted that her breasts were firm and well formed.
“I’d be glad to buy you a beer,” he told her, signaling the bored barkeep. “You rather have something else?”
“No, that‘s—that’s fine.” She flashed him a smile with her eyes. “I’m Ruby. You goin’ to be in town long?”
“Hard to say. As long as our business takes.”
“Our business?” She raised a curious brow. “Oh, sure. I did notice you come in with her. Real pretty lady. She your girl?”
“Miss Starbuck is my employer,” Ki said evenly. “And a friend.”
“Oh. Well, of course...” Ruby glanced at the ceiling, and Ki made no effort to correct what she was thinking. “If you were goin’ to be here some,” she said slowly, “might be you and me could—well, get acquainted, maybe ...”
Ki grinned. The girl had intrigued him from the beginning, and the more he watched her, the more she stirred the growing warmth in his loins. Those startling green eyes were a bold, wanton invitation. At the same t
ime, her voice was almost shy, hesitant—as if she were afraid he might take her up on her offer. It was a contrast he found more than a little exciting.
“I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t get better acquainted,” he told her. “Do you?”
“Really?” Her eyes sparkled with delight. She glanced quickly over her shoulder at the stairs that led to the second floor. “You think—right now’d be a good time?”
“I can’t think of any better time,” he said.
The room was small and comfortable; there was a dresser with a bowl and a pitcher, and a bed with a big feather mattress and a bright patterned quilt. A heavy shade kept the harsh summer sun out of the room. “I’ve got a bottle up
“You like a drink?” she asked him. “I’ve got a bottle up here if you like.”
“No, thank you,” said Ki. He crossed the room and put his hands on her waist. She was so slender there, he could almost reach around her. When he bent to kiss her, she gave a little sigh and closed her eyes. Ki explored the warmth and sweetness of her mouth, letting his tongue caress each small and secret hollow. Ruby responded with a hunger of her own, drinking in his kisses. She guided his lips where she wanted them to be, showing him the way with tiny moans and sighs.
Ki let his mouth touch her cheeks and her nose and her eyes, then trail down the column of her throat. A vein pulsed in her neck. His fingers loosened her bodice, and Ruby reached up eagerly to help. When her breasts were bare, she slipped the hooks at her waist and let the gown whisper to the floor.
Ki stood back and looked at her. Ruby caught his expression and gave him a mischievous grin, well aware of exactly what he wanted. Stepping back lightly, she clasped her hands behind her, resting them in the cleft of her hips. The action gave her breasts a saucy tilt, and deepened the hollow just beneath her ribs. Gazing at him from under a veil of tousled hair, she looked for all the world like a little girl caught in the act—doing all the things she wasn’t supposed to do. Ki knew she was well aware of what she was doing. It was the same startling contrast he’d seen below in the bar—provocative, hesitant, and overwhelmingly exciting.
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