The Omaha Palace

by J. R. Roberts

  “Out of the blue?”

  “The blue? I heard she was looking for a bartender, and I came in.”

  “Where’d you work before?”

  “A little saloon at the south end of town,” he said.

  “So you never worked for Big Jack?”

  “No, never. Clint . . . you can trust me.”

  Clint stared at him a few seconds, then said, “Okay.”

  “Okay, you trust me?”

  “Okay, I’ll think about it,” Clint said. “That’s the best I can do, Ed.”

  “Yeah,” Wright said, “yeah, okay. I gotta clean up a bit before I turn in. Then I’ll finish up in the mornin’.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  If Ed Wright was telling the truth, Clint would feel bad, but if Wright was working for Big Jack, then Clint couldn’t trust him.

  * * *

  He went up to the second floor and knocked on Ashley’s door. She answered wearing a dressing gown, with a brush in her hand.

  “I wake you up?”

  “I was just brushing my hair,” she said. “Is this business? Or can it wait?”

  “Business.”

  “Come on in.”

  He entered and she closed the door behind them.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Ed.”

  “My bartender? What about him?”

  “Can you trust him?”

  She hesitated, then said, “Well, I thought I could. Until you just asked me. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m thinking Big Jack put a man in here, maybe one of the four new ones. But what if he put Ed in here first?”

  “And Ed recommended the four men,” she said. “So one, two, three, or all of them could be working for Big Jack also.”

  Clint shrugged.

  “I don’t think all,” he said. “I think one. And I might be wrong, but . . . I just started thinking about Ed, too.”

  She sat in front of her mirror and started brushing her hair.

  “Clint, can we afford to distrust everyone?” she asked. “What about the girls?”

  “I know, I know,” Clint said. “You’re probably right. I’m being too distrustful. We should go back to thinking that maybe Big Jack has put one man inside.”

  She turned to face him.

  “I think so.”

  “All right,” he said. “I’m sorry I bothered you with this. I did talk with both Big Jack and the mayor tonight. He’s got the mayor, the chief of police, and a few other influential men in his pocket.”

  “I figured that when I first came here and made plans to open the Palace. But I went ahead anyway. Maybe I was wrong, but I’m committed now.”

  “We’re committed now,” he said. “I’ll stay on as long as you need me.”

  “Even if you have to go up against every influential man in town?”

  “I think they should have to worry about going up against me,” he said. “You get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Clint.”

  He left her room and walked down the hall to his own. He wondered how she intended to get Mike Lukas up to her room. Back door left open?

  He opened his own door, found Karen sitting on his bed, waiting.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Clint woke in the morning with Karen’s head on his belly. She was asleep, her breath gentle and warm on his skin. Once again, she had tired him out during the night, yet he was awake and she was asleep.

  He tried to slip out from beneath her. She was sleeping so soundly that he was able to do it. He also moved about the room washing and dressing, without her stirring,

  He slipped out of the room and down the stairs. When he got there, Ed was drinking coffee. The place had been cleaned up, and Leo was taking chairs off tables.

  “Morning,” Ed said.

  “Good morning.”

  “Mike’s makin’ breakfast.”

  “Good.”

  Clint sat down. There was a chill coming from Ed’s side of the table.

  “Look,” Clint said. “about last night—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ed said. “Let’s just do what we gotta do. You’ll find out eventually that you can trust me.”

  “Okay,” Clint said.

  Mike Brennan appeared then with their breakfast.

  “Don’t bring a plate for Miss Burgoyne, Mike,” Clint said. “She’ll be down later.”

  “I know,” Brennan said, and left.

  “He has an instinct for when she’ll come down early and when she won’t,” Ed said.

  “I didn’t mean to insult him.”

  “Like you noticed,” Ed said, “Mike’s in a mood. I ain’t figured it out yet. He’s usually kinda testy, but lately he’s been worse.”

  “Maybe it’s his son.”

  “But he’s a policeman.”

  “The job may not appeal to Mike,” Clint said.

  “Well, let’s eat before it gets cold.”

  They both started.

  * * *

  “Tell me about the four men,” Clint said.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How do you know them?”

  “In passing mostly,” Ed said. “I’ve known Otto the longest. He works jobs all over town, and for a while we worked in the same saloon. If you trusted me, you’d know you can trust him, because I do.”

  “I felt that about Otto when I met him,” Clint said. “I don’t think he works for Big Jack.”

  “So okay,” Ed said.

  “What about Atchison?”

  “He’s been in here to drink a few times since we opened,” Ed said. “Sometimes when nobody else is around, so we’ve talked.”

  “What’s he doing in Omaha?”

  “He heard the town was growing, becoming a city,” Ed said. “He thought this might be the place for him to settle down. Only he ain’t been able to find a job.”

  “Until now.”

  “Well, when you said you was lookin’ for men, I just thought . . . why not?”

  “Trust him like you trust Otto?”

  Ed paused, then said, “No.”

  “Okay, how about Falkner?”

  Ed hesitated, then said, “I gotta tell you the truth. I knew Falkner in Abilene, saw him kill a man there. He’s good with a gun, and I thought that was what we needed.”

  “What’s he doing in Omaha?”

  “Passin’ through,” Ed said. “Not lookin’ for a place to settle.”

  “And he hires his gun out?”

  “Naw, he ain’t a money gun, if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” Ed said. “But he knows how to handle one. I thought he’d be the best for what you wanted.”

  “And Lukas?”

  “A gambler,” Ed said. “Came to town, hit a bad streak. He was just lookin’ for a stake.”

  “Five dollars a week?”

  “Hey,” Ed said, “he took it.”

  “But why?”

  “Maybe you should ask him,” Ed said. “To tell you the truth, he’s the one I know the least. I was talkin’ to somebody else about the job, and Lukas was nearby. He heard me, said he’d take the job.”

  “So when I asked you if anybody approached you . . .” Clint said.

  “Right,” Ed said. “I shoulda said he did, but I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “Well,” Clint said. “I guess I should start with him.”

  “Do you know where he is?” Ed asked. “Where he’s stayin’?”

  Clint looked up. “I don’t know where he’s staying, but I might know where he is.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Clint was standing in the back of the building, leaning a
gainst the wall, when the back door opened and Mike Lukas stepped out. His shirt had not yet been buttoned up.

  “Mornin’,” Clint said.

  “Uh-oh,” Lukas said. “Jealous boyfriend? I thought you said—”

  “Not jealous,” Clint said. “Curious. Can I buy you some coffee?”

  “Make it breakfast and okay.”

  “Let’s go,” Clint said, “but you better button up.”

  Clint led the way out of the alley.

  * * *

  Omaha seemed to be filled with small cafés. They found one and got seated. Clint never thought he could get his fill of coffee, but it was happening.

  “Breakfast?” the waiter asked.

  “Just coffee for me.”

  “Ham and eggs, and coffee,” Lukas said.

  As the waiter left, Lukas looked at Clint and asked, “What’s on your mind?”

  “You are,” Clint said. “I’m wondering why a gambler would take a five-dollar-a-week job.”

  “I need the money.”

  “Five dollars. You can probably make more than that being a store clerk.”

  “I’d shoot myself in the head before I’d take a job in a store,” Lukas said. “Or before I’d swamp out a barn. This job, at least, involves a gun, so I took it.”

  Clint frowned, sat back as the waiter came with coffee and poured it out.

  “So what’s this about?” Lukas asked.

  Clint studied the man. Was he the one?

  “I just want to make sure I can trust the four men I hired for security,” he said.

  “You think somebody’s gonna try to steal from Ashley?” Lukas asked.

  That was as good an excuse as any.

  “I just don’t want to see that happen,” he said.

  “Well, you can count on me,” Lukas said. “I want to see Ashley succeed.”

  “So do I.”

  Clint sat with Lukas while the man ate his breakfast, and then the gambler went back to the rooming house he was staying in.

  “See you this afternoon,” he told Clint. “I’ve got the six o’clock shift.”

  “See you then.”

  Clint headed back to the Palace, but along the way he passed the sheriff’s office, so he deiced to go in.

  * * *

  Sheriff Thorpe looked up from his desk as Clint entered.

  “Adams.”

  “Sheriff,” Clint said. “Thought I’d see you at the party last night.”

  “Really? I wasn’t even invited.”

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “Why not?” Thorpe said. “Coffee’s on the stove.”

  “No thanks,” Clint said. “I’ve had enough.”

  “Whiskey?”

  “Too early.”

  “Not for me.”

  He took a bottle out of his desk and poured a couple of fingers into a mug. He replaced the bottle, then took a sip.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I figure you know everybody in town.”

  “If I did, that would mean I was good at my job.”

  “I suspect you are.”

  “Was,” Thorpe said, staring into his mug thoughtfully. “Maybe I was.”

  “Maybe you still are,” Clint said. “Let’s test it out.”

  Thorpe sat back in his chair, cradling his mug, and said, “What do you want?”

  “I figure Big Jack Mackey’s got the new law in his pocket,” Clint said. “The chief, and even more.”

  “So?”

  “Also the mayor, and the town council.”

  “You askin’ me if he’s got me in his pocket?”

  “No,” Clint said. “I don’t think he does. But I’m wondering about some other men.”

  “Who?”

  “We’ve hired four new men as security at the Palace,” Clint said. “I want to know if I made a mistake.”

  “Hirin’ the wrong men?”

  Clint nodded.

  “You think Mackey put one in there?”

  “One or more.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to tell you their names and hear what you have to say about each of them.”

  Thorpe sipped his whiskey, then put the mug down on his desk and said, “Okay, go ahead.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Big Jack Mackey woke up and slid out of bed without waking Janice. He’d fucked her silly the night before, so she didn’t stir. He wondered how much longer he should keep her around, or should he go ahead and replace her? He probably should wait until he resolved the whole Palace issue.

  He pulled on a silk robe, belted it, and went downstairs. The smell of breakfast wafted out from the kitchen. His cook, Mrs. Willis, usually came in early to prepare it.

  He entered the kitchen. The heavyset, middle-aged woman turned and looked at him.

  “Mornin’,” she said.

  She was usually cheerful, except when she knew that Janice was up in his bed.

  “Good morning, Berta.”

  “Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes,” she said. “For two?”

  “Yes, please. In the dining room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She handed him a cup of coffee and he carried it into the living room with him. There was a knock at his door then, and he went to answer it.

  “Mornin’,” Chris Nickerson said.

  “Come on, in,” Big Jack said. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

  Mrs. Willis would be surprised when she came out of the kitchen and realized the second for breakfast was a man.

  * * *

  Clint listened carefully to Thorpe’s opinions on the four men.

  Otto Gerald: “As honest as they come. Hard worker.”

  Ben Atchison: “He won’t last. He’ll drift away eventually, but I don’t think he’s dishonest.”

  Gabe Falkner: “If I was still the only law in town, I’d pin a badge on him.”

  “He’s that good?” Clint asked.

  “Better.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Mike Lukas: “He’s a gambler. I don’t like him.”

  Clint wished the lawman had had another reason to dislike Lukas. Lots of his friends were gamblers, and in fact, he considered himself one.

  He stood up.

  “I appreciate your time, Sheriff.”

  Sheriff Thorpe sat forward, grabbed his mug from his desk.

  “You think I helped?”

  “Well,” Clint said, “you’ve given me something to think about.”

  Clint headed for the door.

  “Keep a close eye on Mackey,” Thorpe said.

  “I intend to.”

  “He’s got plenty of resources you still don’t know anythin’ about.”

  Clint had his hand on the doorknob, paused to look at Thorpe.

  “Anything or anyone in particular?”

  Thorpe thought a minute, sipped his drink.

  “Mackey’s got a bartender named Dan,” he said.

  “I met him,” Clint said. “Big, burly guy. You think I have to worry about him?”

  “Not him,” Clint said. “His last name’s Nickerson.”

  Clint frowned.

  “That name sounds familiar.”

  “Been gettin’ around of late,” Thorpe said. “His brother’s name is Chris.”

  “Chris Nickerson,” Clint said. “That’s right. Supposed to be pretty good with a gun. Is he in town?”

  “He could be,” the lawman said. “I don’t know for sure.”

  “He’s supposed to have some boys riding with him.”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  �
�I’m not going to be able to count on the police in this town,” Clint said.

  “That’s for sure.”

  “How about you, Sheriff?” Clint asked. “Can I count on you, if it comes right down to it?”

  “I’ll do my job,” Thorpe said, “if I’m allowed to.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I hear the town council’s about to meet,” he said. “My badge may be on the agenda.”

  “I see.”

  “Check back with me,” Thorpe said. “If I’m still wearin’ tin, you can count on me.”

  “And if you’re not?”

  Thorpe poured himself some more whiskey.

  “Then maybe you’ll need another security man at the Palace?”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Berta was much more cheerful when she brought out the breakfast for two and saw Chris Nickerson. She’d prepared a ton of eggs, bacon, and flapjacks, then served them with a basket of hot biscuits and some honey.

  “This is the way to live,” Nickerson said.

  “That’s why I’ll crush anyone who tries to ruin it for me,” Big Jack said.

  “That what you think that woman is doin’ with her saloon?” Nickerson asked, his mouth full of eggs.

  “I do.”

  “Then you want me to take care of her?”

  “In time,” Big Jack said, “but first you’ll have to handle the Gunsmith.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Not alone, though,” Mackey said. “I don’t want you to take any chances.”

  “I’ve got some good boys with me,” Nickerson said. “You won’t have to worry.”

  “Then eat hearty, Chris,” Big Jack said. “I hope you don’t mind killin’ on a full stomach.”

  Nickerson stuck a large forkful of flapjacks into his mouth and said, “Never have before.”

  * * *

  Clint went back to the saloon, back to his room. Karen was gone. So was her warmth from the sheets. He walked to the window and looked down at the street in front of the Palace. After he’d braced both the mayor and Big Jack at the party last night, and after talking with the sheriff, he was fairly sure they’d come for him—if not that day, then the next.

  He didn’t know how many would come. It would have been helpful to have somebody back his play, but he didn’t know of anyone he could trust. According to the sheriff, Falkner was good with a gun. He could ask him. And then there was the sheriff. He didn’t have any idea how good he’d be, or even if he’d be sober when the time came. But those were probably the only two men who had anywhere near the experience he needed.