“So what?” Bent said. “Life ain’ never been fair to us, has it?”
“Got that right,” Stash said.
“Go!” Bent said. “Get outta here.”
The two men slunk off to eat, as usual, in some flea-infested restaurant.
Bent Miller approached the River Steakhouse, which was housed in one of the first wooden structures that had been built in Skagway. As he entered, he immediately spotted and recognized the two men he was supposed to meet.
EIGHT
“This has to be him,” Parker said, looking past Hector at the man who had just come through the door.
Hector turned, saw a dangerous-looking man standing just inside the door. He was dressed warmly in a fur-lined jacket, had a well-worn Colt in a holster on his hip, his lantern jaw covered with gray-black stubble.
“Just because he looks dangerous?” Hector asked.
“Because,” Calvin Parker said, “he looks like a killer.”
“How can you tell?”
“Easy,” Parker said. “The eyes. It’s always in the eyes.”
“I guess I better—”
“Just sit tight,” Parker said, cutting him off before he could say anything else. “Let him pick us out. You gave a description, right?”
“Right.”
“Then just wait.”
Hector turned and went back to his steak.
Bent Miller knew tenderfeet when he saw them. He walked over to the table, stopped just behind Hector Tailor, and dropped his hand on his shoulder.
“You’re Tailor,” he said.
Hector looked over his shoulder, and up.
“That’s right,” he said. “Bent Miller, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, sit down and have a steak,” Hector said.
“I have a fee coming first,” Bent said.
“This is my boss, Calvin Parker,” Hector said. “He has your fee.”
“Mr. Parker,” Bent said.
“Mr. Miller,” Parker said. “I believe your fee was a steak and…”
“A thousand dollars.”
“A thousand?” Parker asked. “Why do I think it’s more like…five hundred?”
Hector wondered why Parker was negotiating, but Bent Miller looked at him and said, “Yeah, five hundred. That’s it.”
Parker took some money out of his pocket and set it down by the third chair, then waved to the waiter to bring another steak dinner.
“The River,” Ike said.
“We’re going to go and eat in the river?” Clint asked.
“No,” Ike said, “we’re going to a steakhouse called the River. Serves the best steak in Skagway. There it is.”
Clint found himself looking at a shack.
“That’s the best place in town for steak?”
“It’s also one of the first buildings ever built in Skagway.”
As they approached, Clint could see inside.
“Looks pretty busy.”
“Every place in Skagway is busy,” Ike said. “Come on.”
They walked to the door and went inside. Just from the crush of bodies present it was warmer.
“I see a table in the back,” Ike said.
“Well, hurry up,” Clint said. “I’m hungry.”
Ike ran across the floor to claim the table as two people stood up from it. Clint started to follow, then saw three men sitting at a table together. He recognized two of them as Hector Tailor and Calvin Parker. He didn’t know the third man, but he certainly was not cut from the same cloth as the two businessmen.
By the time he reached the table, Ike had cleared it off with his sleeve and waved to a waiter.
“Two steak dinners,” he said. “And beer.”
“Comin’ up.”
Ike looked over at the table of three men that had caught Clint’s eye.
“You know them fellers?” he asked.
“I know two of them,” Clint said. “Came over on the ship with me. I don’t know the third.”
“I do,” Ike said. “That’s Bent Miller.”
“Who’s Bent Miller?” Clint asked.
“He’s the man you hire when you need a gun,” Ike said. “Him and his partners kill for a livin’.”
“That so?” Clint asked. “I wonder what two businessmen need with a killer, just hours after they’ve arrived here in Alaska.”
“What’s their business here?” Ike asked.
“What else? Gold. Apparently, the one with the mustache, Calvin Parker, has a lot of money and is planning on setting up a mining operation.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know,” Clint said.
“Well,” Ike said, “I hope it ain’t up near Forty Mile.”
“Forty Mile?”
“That’s the town we’re headin’ for,” Ike said, “and we’re takin’ Forty Mile River to get there.”
“And it’s a town?”
“Shanty town mostly,” Ike said. “May’ve grown since I was there, but there’s plenty of folks headin’ up that way.”
“There should be enough gold for everybody,” Clint said.
“That ain’t the attitude of everybody up here,” Ike said. “In fact, it ain’t hardly anybody’s attitude. Nobody’s lookin’ to share nothin’.”
“That can only lead to trouble,” Clint said.
The waiter came with their plates and set them down in front of them, then came back with two frosty beers. Ike grabbed his and drank a quarter of it down.
“Too many damn people here for you to hand me any money,” Ike said around a huge chunk of steak. “Maybe we should wait ’til we get to the hotel.”
“I’ll pass the cash to you under the table,” Clint suggested. “Don’t you have to pay it out right away? Tonight?”
“Soon as I can,” Ike said. “I wanna make sure our stuff hits the river early tomorrow.”
“Are we goin’ on the same boat?”
“No,” Ike said. “The supplies will go up on a couple of boats. We’ll go on a separate one. With three boats, we’re gonna need a lot of men on the poles.”
“How bad is the river between here and there?”
“There’s some bad spots, but it should be smooth as glass most of the way.”
“Are the men you’re hiring experienced?”
“Very,” Ike said. “That’s why I need so much money.”
“So much?”
“Well, I ain’t payin’ them each a lot, but it adds up.”
“Seems to me these fellas would be in demand,” Clint said. “Especially with somebody like Calvin Parker in town.”
“You’re right,” Ike said. “That’s why I gotta get ’em paid tonight.”
“Well, okay, then,” Clint said. “I’ll pass you the cash under the table.”
“But you got more, right?”
“I brought enough to get the job done, Ike,” Clint said.
“That’s good,” Ike said. “Let’s eat up and then we can get to it.”
NINE
Calvin Parker was looking over at Clint and the other man.
“Hector, do you know who that man with Adams is?” he asked.
“No, sir, I don’t.”
“Well, find out—”
“He don’t have to,” Bent Miller said, chewing his steak. “I know who he is.”
“Okay,” Parker said, “who?”
“Ike Daly.”
“Who is he?”
“Small operator,” Bent said. “But did you say that other fella’s name is Adams?”
“That’s right,” Parker said. “Clint Adams, the Gunsmith.”
“So that’s why you need me?” Bent asked.
“Maybe,” Parker said. “I just want to be ready if Adams plans to get in my way.”
“I can take care of him right here in Skagway, no problem,” Bent said.
“You’re that confident?” Hector asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Bent said. “He’s got some time on him, ain’t what he u
sed to be. Me, I’m younger and faster, and probably meaner. Oh, yeah, I can do it.”
“Let’s just hold off on that, Miller,” Parker said.
“Just call me Bent.”
“Okay, Bent,” Parker said. “Don’t kill Adams until I say so. Is that clear enough? That is, unless you want to do it for free?”
“I’d do it for free,” Bent said, “but I’d sure rather get paid, so yeah, that’s clear.”
“Good,” Parker said. “Since I pay the freight, I get to call the shots.”
Bent shrugged and said, “That suits me. Say, you think I can get another one of these?”
Parker looked and saw that Bent was only half finished with his steak, but he waved at the waiter and mimed for him to bring another one anyway.
“And some more beer,” Bent said.
Parker pointed to his own beer and then held up three fingers. The waiter understood.
“So maybe you should tell me what you do want me to do,” Bent said. “That is, until Clint Adams does become the job.”
TEN
Clint and Ike finished their meal, had pie to top it off. While they were waiting for the pie, Clint passed a wad of cash to Ike under the table. Ike pocketed it without trying to count it.
“Where do we meet these fellas with the poles?” Clint asked.
“We go back to the docks,” Ike said. “There’s a saloon tent there where they do their drinkin’. They also fight there, pretty much every night.”
“Then we better get to them before they get drunk,” Clint suggested.
“Drunk or sober, they’ll be there in the mornin’ once we pay ’em.”
“You’re going to pay them first?”
Ike shrugged. “It’s the only way they’ll take the job. They don’t wanna head upriver, run into trouble, and then not get paid.”
“And we don’t want them to head upriver, dump the equipment in the water, and then say they had trouble.”
“If they do that, they don’t get no other work,” Ike said. “Naw, these guys’ll do the job.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“About this, I am.”
Bent Miller, Hector, and Parker finished their meals—Bent eating two steaks in the time it took the others to eat one—and then also had some pie, and coffee.
“So what do I do tonight?” Bent asked.
“Keep an eye on Adams,” Parker said. “I want to know what he does tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Then meet me at the Skagway Hotel in the morning, in the lobby,” Miller said. “We’re going to be heading upriver, and you’re coming with us.”
Bent touched his pocket, where Calvin Parker’s five hundred dollars resided, and said, “You’re payin’ the freight.”
“Hector says you have men. Partners?”
“I have some men who work for me,” Bent said, “but if you want them, too, you gotta pay extra.”
“Paying is not a problem for me,” Parker said. “Ever!”
“Come on,” Clint said, “let’s get out of here before those three stand up.”
“You worried about them?” Ike asked.
“That fella Bent’s been looking over at me,” Clint said. “Seems they told him who I was, so he might be getting some ideas.”
“Okay, sure.”
They stood up and headed for the door, but it would have been obvious if they skirted the table Parker, Hector, and Bent were sitting at, so they had to walk right past it.
“Mr. Adams!” Parker called.
Clint stopped short, Ike running into him from behind.
“Mr. Parker.”
“If I’d thought of it earlier, you and your friend could have joined us.”
Clint smiled and said, “I have the feeling we were all doing our own business.”
“You’re probably right,” Parker said. “Do you know my associate, Bent Miller?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“Adams,” Bent said, nodding.
“Miller. This is my partner, Ike Daly.”
“Mr. Daly,” Parker said, “a pleasure.”
“Same here,” Ike said.
“Perhaps we can have that drink while we’re all still in Skagway,” Parker said.
“Maybe,” Adams said. “We’ll have to see.”
“Good night, then.”
“Night,” Clint said. He and Ike left the River.
Bent Miller watched Clint Adams walk out, then turned to Parker.
“He’s worried about me.”
“Is he?”
“I can tell.”
“That’s fine, then,” Parker said. “That can work in our favor.”
“Well,” Bent said, “thanks for the meal, and the job.”
“And the five hundred,” Hector said. “Don’t forget the five hundred.”
Bent patted himself on the pocket where the money was and said, “I never forget the money.”
The three men stood up and left the place.
“You were right,” Ike said.
“About what?”
“Bent Miller,” Ike said. “He’s got his eyes on you.”
“Yeah. I’m going to have to deal with him at some point.”
“Maybe we can get out of Skagway without seeing him again.”
“Let’s hope so,” Clint said, “for his sake.”
Parker, Hector, and Bent stepped outside, didn’t see Clint Adams or Ike Daly anywhere.
“Sure got away from here quick, didn’t they?” Bent asked.
“They probably had business to conduct elsewhere,” Parker said. “Hector, I believe you do, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Maybe you should take Bent with you,” Parker suggested.
“I’m supposed to meet my men, but we can do that,” Bent said. “No problem.” He slapped Hector on the back, causing the man to jump. “I’ll take care of your boy.”
ELEVEN
Ike took Clint down to the docks, where they found the tent saloon called the Gold Mine.
“That’s optimistic,” Clint said.
“Huh?”
“I guess the owners were hoping this would be their gold mine.”
“I bet it is,” Ike said. “They do a helluva business here.”
They entered and Clint saw what his friend meant. Almost everybody there was shoulder to shoulder, and it was noisy as hell with conversation. And—true to what Ike had told him—there were a couple of fights going on. From what Clint could see, though, it was mostly harmless wrestling by drunks who couldn’t hurt each other.
“Make way, make way,” Ike said, elbowing his way to the bar. Men moved for him without giving him a second look. “Beer?” he asked Clint.
Clint nodded.
“Two beers!” Ike shouted.
Clint wondered how long that would take, but a bartender appeared almost immediately with two mugs. He couldn’t see much behind the bar, but there must have been more than one barman.
Ike handed Clint a beer, then stepped away from the bar. The space he’d made quickly sealed itself.
“See your boys here?” Clint asked.
“Not yet,” Ike said. “Maybe they’re in the back.”
“Take a look,” Clint said. “I’ll wait here, instead of both of us trying to fight our way through the crowd.”
“Okay.”
Ike took his beer and worked his way through the crowd. Clint marveled at how his friend was able to do this without spilling a drop, but then he was swallowed up by the crowd.
There were a couple of arguments going on at the bar that could become fights pretty soon. Clint vowed to keep out of either one, so he moved farther away from the bar. In doing so, somebody bumped into him, spilling some of his beer.
“Sorry, sweetie,” a girl said.
He looked down at her. She was wearing Levi’s and a plaid shirt, but was carrying a tray of drinks.
“You’re a saloon girl?” he asked.
“That’s right,” the pret
ty brunette said. “Too damn cold up here for dresses. Let me get you another beer, since I spilled that one.”
“Still plenty of it left.”
“Just stay here, sweetie,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
He decided not to fight it. A free beer was a free beer. While he waited, he finished what was left of the first one. As he thought, one of the arguments at the bar turned into another wrestling match. Seemed like it was also too cold to throw punches.
“Here ya go, hon,” the girl said. She held out a full mug, and when Clint took it, she snatched the almost empty one from his hand. “You’ve got to watch where you’re goin’ in here.”
“You bumped into me,” he reminded her.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You apologized.” He held up his fresh beer to indicate her mode of apology.
She smiled and said, “I was bein’ nice.”
She flounced away to serve the rest of her drinks. Clint thought her round butt was more interesting in the trousers than it would have been in a dress.
He looked around at that moment, saw Ike come out from the crowd with half of his beer intact. He’d either drunk the half, or spilled it.
“You find them?” Clint asked.
“Yeah, they’re in the back. They said they’d meet us outside.”
“When?”
“In a few minutes.”
Clint looked around for the girl, but there was no sign of her.
“You got another beer?” Ike asked.
“Yeah, a free one.”
“How come?”
“I’ll tell you later. Drink up, and we’ll go outside and wait for your friends.”
“Suits me.”
They finished their beers, and Ike elbowed his way back to the bar to set the empties down, then they went out the door.
Outside the wrestling matches had finished and there was enough space to stretch.
“It’s colder out here,” Clint said, “but at least there’s room to breathe.”
“You’ll get used to the cold.”
“I hope so.”
“We’ll get you some good long johns.”
Clint nodded. Long johns would help a lot.
They waited about fifteen minutes and no one appeared from the saloon.
“Are they coming?” Clint asked. “I thought you said these fellas were reliable.”
Forty Mile River Page 3