Blood Feud

Home > Other > Blood Feud > Page 18
Blood Feud Page 18

by David Robbins


  There were more screams. Several of the boys started forward but stopped.

  Tunk was buckling. The whites of his eyes showed and he tottered against the platform. Clinging to the edge, he spat, “Bastard,” and pitched onto his face and was still.

  In the sudden quiet, the fall of a pin would have sounded like thunder.

  Chace turned to Zeke and Floyd. “Am I going to have trouble with either of you?”

  “Not for twice as much money you’re not,” Zeke replied.

  “No one much liked Tunk, anyhow,” Floyd said.

  Chace climbed onto the platform. He gazed out over the anxious faces and gestured at the body. “You have a new leader. Anyone who objects say so now.”

  No one did.

  “The thing to know is this. Nothing changes except one thing. You hawk like you have been doing, but instead of getting ten cents of every dollar you make, from here on out you keep half.”

  “Half?” a boy echoed.

  “Did we hear that right?” From a girl with a scarred face.

  “Your ears work fine,” Chace said. “Half is fair, so half it will be. You’ve been taken advantage of long enough.”

  They looked at one another and it slowly sank in. A small boy in rags let out a yip and others whopped and hollered and a girl about Chace’s age came to the front and pumped her arms and shouted, “Let’s hear it for our new leader!”

  The rafters pealed with the tumult.

  Chace Shannon held the dripping toothpick aloft, and grinned.

  23

  There were three of them on swift horses. They swept out of the Arkansas mountains and south along the road to Texas. All had shocks of black hair and bushy brows and hard faces similar enough to hint that they were brothers. Wherever they stopped they asked the same question. Sometimes they got the answer they wanted.

  The three passed through Fort Smith. They passed through settlements and hamlets clear to Dallas. In Dallas they were delayed. It was too big; there were too many people. They asked around and they asked around and no one had seen their quarry. Then they came to a stable on the south end and the stableman had seen a boy answering the description they gave. Better still, the boy had asked the stableman how far it was to Galveston.

  The three thanked him and walked out and the middle brother said, “What in hell is he going to Galveston for?”

  “Could be he wants to get out of the country,” said the oldest brother.

  “Could be he’s taking a ship.”

  “Could be,” agreed the youngest. “Or maybe he aims to lie low for a spell and go home when he thinks the law and us have stopped looking.”

  The middle brother swore. “The law might stop but I never will. Not as long as I draw breath.”

  “Randy and me feel the same, Newton,” said the oldest. “He has to pay for what he’s done. He has to bleed and suffer.”

  Randy nodded, hate in his eye. “I like that suffering part, Linsey. He’s got to suffer a lot.”

  The next place they came across word was a hamlet called Delvin. It had a population of thirty-two, and one saloon. The brothers claimed a corner table and plunked their rifles down and Linsey said when the bartender came over, “We’d like a bottle of the cheapest bug juice you’ve got.”

  To them, raised on shine, it went down silken and exploded like a bomb. They drank half the bottle and Linsey got up and went over to the bar. “Got a question to ask you, mister.”

  The bartender was pouring rum into a stein. “Ask all you want but I can’t promise to answer.”

  “You sound prickly,” Linsey observed.

  “I don’t spout to hear myself talk.” The bartender slid a stein down the bar. “Let’s hear it.”

  “We’re looking for a boy. He has hair like spun gold and blue eyes. Wears buckskins. He’d’ve been riding a mule.”

  “I don’t look at the hitch rail much,” the bartender said. “But there was a boy that matches that. I remember him on account of he was so young and I didn’t think I should serve him but he convinced me.”

  “How?”

  “He laid a Spencer on the bar and asked if I was bulletproof. Never pointed it at me but I got the idea he wasn’t to be trifled with, even as young as he was.”

  “That sounds like him,” Linsey said grimly.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” the bartender said, “why are you after him?”

  “He killed kin of ours up to Arkansas,” Linsey said. “He’s a Shannon and we’re Harkeys.”

  “What do you aim to do when you catch up to him?”

  Linsey snorted. “What else? We’re going to kill the son of a bitch.”

  The brass knocker rapped and Chace smoothed his new waistcoat and opened the door and gave a bow. “How do you do? Welcome to Madame Bovary’s. If you will follow me, sir, I’ll show you to the parlor.”

  A portly middle-aged man with rings on his fingers was leaning on a cane. “Who have we here?” he asked. “Where’s Sam?”

  “I wouldn’t hardly know,” Chace said. “I’m the new greeter. You want to follow me or not?”

  A cloud of perfume enveloped them and Madame Bovary said, “Chace! That’s no way to greet Council-man Patterson.” She smiled and bowed and took the councilman’s arm. “Permit me to escort you.”

  Chace shut the door and stood with his back to the wall and his hands folded at his waist. Across from him was a mirror for those who, as Madame Bovary had explained, “needed to put themselves together before they go off to hearth and home.” He stared at his checkered pants and high boots. His hair had been trimmed shorter than it had ever been and parted clear from the front of his head to the nape of his neck. “I’m plumb gorgeous,” he said.

  “That you are.” Madame Bovary swept upon him and stood with her hands on her wide hips. “My clients all say you’re the best-looking boy they ever saw. But your manners need work.”

  “I’m being polite as I can be.”

  “It’s not your manners; it’s your tone,” Madame Bovary clarified. “You’ve got to be polite and friendly.”

  “Hell,” Chace said.

  Madame Bovary took his hand and gently squeezed. “You’re doing fine. Another month and you’ll be as good as Sam.” She hesitated and looked down the hall and stepped so close they practically brushed bosom and chest. “I’ve got a minute and I’d like to ask a question.”

  “Ask away. You hired me.”

  “It’s not about this,” she said. “It’s about the kids who keep showing up. There was one at four in the morning last night. I heard crying and looked out my window and you were talking to a little girl. What was that about?”

  “It’s personal,” Chace said.

  Madame Bovary’s lips pinched together. “Not when it’s on my time. I’d like to know—”

  The rap of the knocker stopped her. Chace smiled and opened the door, and Madame Bovary gave a slight start.

  “Sergeant Rutter. This is a surprise. To what do I owe the honor?”

  The man she addressed was tall and lanky. He wore an ill-fitting suit that bulged at the right hip. His face had sharp angles of chin and cheek and he sported a bristly mustache. On his vest was a badge. “I didn’t come to see you, Gretchen,” the lawman said, and focused his icy eyes on Chace. “I came to see your doorman.”

  Madame Bovary appeared flustered. “May I ask why?”

  “You know better.” Sergeant Rutter hooked a finger at Chace. “Come with me, boy.” Wheeling, he stalked off.

  Chace went to follow but Madame Bovary grabbed his arm.

  “Do you have any idea who that man is?”

  “The law, I take it.”

  Bovary glanced out the door and lowered her voice. “There are good police and there are bad ones, and he’s the worst there is. Why would he pay you a visit? What in God’s name are you involved in?” She clutched at her throat. “Wait a minute. Could it be about Arkansas?”

  “Only one way to find out.” Chace walked down th
e steps to the drive where Rutter was waiting. “Yes, sir?”

  “Polite little killer, aren’t you?”

  “Sir?”

  “Don’t play me for a fool. Eight nights ago you were in a knife fight with Tunk Grundy. You killed him and had his body thrown in the bay. I could arrest you here and now and you’d spend the rest of your days in prison. But I won’t.”

  “Awful kind of you.”

  Sergeant Rutter’s eyes narrowed. “If I thought you were poking fun at me, I’d clamp you in these.” He opened his jacket so that Chace could see the handcuffs attached to his belt, and a short-barreled revolver in a holster. “You don’t want to rile me. Ask anyone.”

  “If you’re not here to arrest me, then what?” Chace asked.

  “We have business to discuss, you and me.”

  “We do?”

  Rutter studied Chace as if trying to peer inside him. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

  “Sir?”

  “Tunk, boy. He didn’t tell you about our arrangement before you went and stuck your blade in him.”

  “We didn’t do a lot of talking,” Chace said.

  Rutter sighed and ran a finger along his mustache. “Figures. All right, I’ll explain. Just this once. Pay attention, because if you don’t hold up your end and I have to come back, I won’t do any talking at all.” He gazed about them, apparently to ensure that no one was close by. “In this city you need a permit to sell on the street. The little rats you are running don’t have them. I could close the whole operation down. But why go to all that bother when the easy thing to do is look the other way? So long as they behave and don’t outright cheat and steal, no real harm is done. Follow me so far?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Because for me to continue looking the other way, I get a piece of the pie. Three hundred dollars a month, each and every month. Miss a payment and I shut you down.”

  “Three hundred?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked. Your little legion brings in seven, eight hundred a month.”

  “So you’re saying you want close to half.”

  “I want three hundred,” Rutter said. “How much they make is up to them and you. Tunk made damn sure they didn’t slack and I’d suggest you do the same.” He tapped his badge. “Remember. I have the power of the law behind me. I can do whatever I like.”

  “You reckon that badge protects you?”

  “Damn right it does. You buck me, you buck the whole police force.” Rutter smoothed his mustache once more. “Any questions?”

  “When do you get the money?”

  “Once a month. Tunk was supposed to pay me two days ago. When he didn’t show, I started to ask around and found out about you.”

  “I work most nights until daybreak,” Chace said. “How about tomorrow afternoon? Do I come to where you work?”

  “Are you crazy?” Rutter bent and jabbed him with a finger. “Listen, boy. This is between you and me. No one else is to ever know. Tell anyone, anyone at all, I’ll cut your damn tongue out and make you eat it. Do you understand?”

  “So none of the other police knows about this?”

  “Didn’t you hear a word I just said? No. And it’s to stay that way.”

  “Good,” Chace said. “Where do I meet you, then?”

  “You don’t have to come in person. You can send one of your rats. Put the money in an envelope or wrap it in newspaper like Tunk used to do.”

  “I’d rather handle this myself.”

  “Fine. Meet me under the wharf near Harvest Fisheries at one o’clock. Know where that is?”

  “I’ll find it,” Chace said.

  Sergeant Rutter nodded. “I like you, boy. You’re being reasonable. Keep being reasonable and you and me will get along fine. Stop being reasonable and ...” He opened his jacket and patted the cuffs and the revolver. “Take my meaning?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chace watched Rutter stroll down the drive. He turned and went back in and no sooner did he open the door than Madame Bovary flowed down the hall, wringing her hands.

  “What did he want?”

  “That’s between him and me.”

  “Damn it all,” Madame Bovary said. “It can’t be good. He has his hand in everything. He even tried to wring money from me but I have important friends in government.” She cocked her head. “What possible business can you have with him?”

  Chace put a hand on her arm. “I’d tell you if I could. You’ve been nicer to me than just about anyone ever. But if I told you and he found out, he’d be mad. And as you just said, he’s no saint. I wouldn’t want him to hurt you.”

  Madame Bovary gripped his chin and peered tenderly into his eyes. “You dear, sweet boy. If you’re in trouble, I can help. I have connections.”

  “It’s nothing I can’t take care of,” Chace said. “In fact, by tomorrow night I expect that him and me won’t have any reason to ever meet again.”

  “He and I,” Madame Bovary said.

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re to work on how you talk, remember? I know you never had any formal schooling but people judge you by how you speak. Try to use proper English.”

  Chace grinned. “This greeting stuff is harder than I reckoned.”

  Madame Bovary chuckled and patted his cheek and walked off, saying over her plump shoulder, “I’ve grown quite fond of you, sweet boy. Please don’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I’ll try my best,” Chace said. He stayed at the door, admitting visitors, for another hour and a half. Then Sasha came down the hall, as ravishing as ever in a silk dress, her red lips quirked.

  “Time for your break. Although why Gretchen doesn’t make you work clean through is beyond me. It’s only twelve hours.”

  “Where’s Sam?”

  “Running an errand for her, so she sent me.” Sasha touched his waistcoat. “I have good taste in clothes, don’t I?”

  “If you weren’t a bitch you would be perfect,” Chace said. He went out and along the portico to the corner of the mansion and on around into the rose garden. He stopped under a willow and whispered, “Tallulah.”

  She came out of hiding. “Here I am.”

  “Get word to Zeke. I need a derringer. I need it by the time I’m done work at six in the morning.”

  Tallulah didn’t pester him with questions. She nodded and was gone like a shot.

  Chace stared down the drive in the direction Sergeant Rutter had gone.

  “Three hundred dollars, my ass.”

  24

  Cassie was nervous. She wrung her hands and mustered up the courage and pushed through the batwings. Her mother had always said that good girls never went into a saloon but it couldn’t be helped. That early in the day, there were two men playing cards and a man mopping the floor and another man behind the bar. They were considerably surprised.

  The man behind the bar had a beard and a huge gut and one eye that was always half shut.

  Cassie walked over and smiled. “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Get your tush out of here.”

  “Mister?” Cassie said in confusion.

  “You heard me. You can’t be, what, fourteen? Girls your age ain’t allowed in saloons. I could get arrested.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m not from Dallas.”

  “Shoo,” the man said, and motioned with his fingers.

  “I’m looking for my grandpa. He said he was coming here last night and he never showed up this morning.”

  “Didn’t you just hear me?”

  “Yes, I did. But I need to find him. The feeling is strong again and we have to go while it is.”

  The man’s half-shut eye jiggled and his mouth ticked. “What in hell are you talking about?”

  “We’re looking for my brother,” Cassie explained. “Sometimes I can feel him and other times I can’t as much. We’ve been resting up while I’ve tried to feel him again and I think he went south.”

  “That made no kind
of sense.”

  “Please,” Cassie said. “Did you see my grandpa? We’re at the hotel across the street and he saw this place out the window and came over to wet his whistle, as he put it. I’m afraid he might have done more than wet it.”

  “Old geezer in buckskins?” the barman said. “Sucks down the bug juice like nobody I ever saw?”

  “That would be him, yes.”

  “I know right where he is.”

  The barman came around the bar and led her down a dark hallway to the back door, and out. A small area, more dirt than grass, was fenced in. Over against the fence was a double outhouse. The smell was atrocious. The barman walked to the far side of the outside, and pointed.

  “This him?”

  Cassie held her breath against the stink and moved so she could see. Her heart dropped. “What am I to do with you?” she softly asked.

  “Like I said, your gramps can suck down the juice. Drank the first bottle in no time. Went slower with the other three. That much coffin varnish, it’s a wonder he’s still alive.” The barman’s voice turned kindly. “He passed out about two last night. I had to close and I couldn’t leave him inside, so I dragged him out here. Took him for another lush.” He nudged Jedediah with his boot. “Do this often, does he?”

  “Never this bad.”

  “Want me to lug him to the hotel for you?” The barman smiled. “I’m not supposed to but I will.”

  “That’s all right. I’d best handle it myself.” Cassie sighed in disappointment. She had asked and asked for him to stop drinking but he’d kept sneaking sips when he thought she wouldn’t notice and at night he had gone off to heed nature’s call a few times, or so he claimed, and come back reeking of spirits.

 

‹ Prev