Zeke entered and took one look and said, “What hit you fellas? A hurricane?”
“He’s a scrapper,” Harold said, with a nod at Fulsome.
“Wish I’d have been here,” Zeke said. “I love a good fight more than I love food.”
When they were done Chace had them bring water and when a girl put a glass in his hand he poured it over the lawman’s face.
Nick’s eyes snapped open. He tried to speak but all that came out was muffled grunts. He tried to move and couldn’t.
“You are hog-tied.” Chace stated the obvious. “I have a few words to say and then we’ll be on our way.” He sat and rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “You’re the law and you do what you have to. I understand that. I even admire you a bit. You’ve been honest with me, so I’ll be the same with you.” He paused. “I thought that by running off I’d spare my ma and my sisters from having to ...”
Nick raised his head and tried to talk again, his muffled sounds loud and urgent. He shook his head and bobbed it at Chace over and over.
“You have something to say?”
Nodding vigorously, Nick said the same thing half a dozen times. The gag made it hard to understand, but the word sounded like “Ma.”
Chace said, “Take the gag off.”
“But—” Floyd began.
“I want to hear. You can put it back on, after. Take it off. Now.”
Reluctantly, Floyd pried and tugged. “There.”
Nick coughed and ran his tongue over his lips. “Damn you,” he said. “Damn all of you for doing this to me.”
“Did you have something to say or was this a trick?” Chace asked.
Nick looked at him. “It hit me while you were talking. You haven’t heard, have you?”
“Heard what?”
“I wish I didn’t have to be the one to break it to you.”
“Break what, damn it?”
“About your ma and your sister and your cabin.”
The color drained from Chace’s face. “You’re saying something happened to them after I left?”
“The cabin was burned to the ground. The sheriff found two fresh graves and had the bodies dug up.” Nick stopped. “I’m sorry, boy. One was your ma and the other was your sister.”
“No,” Chace said softly.
The assembled hawkers were stones. Tallulah started toward Chace but Zeke grabbed her arm and shook his head.
Chace coughed and said something.
“I didn’t catch that,” Nick said.
“Which sister was it the sheriff found?”
“Oh. The older one, Scarlet.”
“How were they killed? Shot? Stabbed? What?”
“He didn’t say and I didn’t think to ask.”
“What about Cassie?”
“There was no sign of your twin. We have no idea where she got to. The sheriff thought that maybe the Harkeys got hold of her but if so they are keeping it a secret.”
“And my grandpa?”
“There was no sign of him, either. Could be he went back to his place in the mountains. The sheriff was going to send someone to look for him about the time I left to come find you.”
Chace walked to the window. He clasped his hands behind his back and stood staring out a good long while. Finally he turned. “I reckon I don’t need to talk to the sky anymore.”
“The sky?”
“Nothing,” Chace said.
“Again, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate that. I truly do.” Chace laughed a strange sort of laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re not nearly as sorry as the Harkeys are going to be.”
30
The Memphis Belle was a schooner. She was old but well kept by her owner and captain, who was twice as old and refused to give up sails when many of his salty breed turned to steam engines. A two-master, the Memphis Belle could cruise at eleven knots when the wind was right. She never lacked for cargo as her owner had a reputation for braving the worst of seas and always getting through.
The buckboard rattled to a stop at the dock and Chace jumped down from the seat. “Stay here,” he said to Zeke and the boys in the bed. He crossed the dock to the gangplank and was about to go up it when a stern voice stopped him.
“That’ll be far enough, lad.”
Out of the shadow of the quarterdeck came a bulky man in a sea coat that was gray like his hair. He had on a seaman’s cap and a pipe jutted from his slash of a mouth. He puffed a wreath of smoke.
“I’m looking for Captain Schumacher,” Chace said.
“That would be me.” Schumacher stopped at the gangway and regarded the buckboard and the boys. “What is that you’ve got there?”
“A crate.”
“I can see that.” Schumacher took the pipe from his mouth and tapped the stem on the rail. “Would you be thinking I’m weak in the head?”
“No, sir,” Chace said. “I’ve heard you are anything but. That you are a man of your word, and honest, to boot.”
“Flattery, lad, never falls on deaf ears.” Schumacher uttered a rumbling chuckle. “Now, then, since you’re here on business, suppose you explain its nature.”
“I’ve heard you’re fixing to sail on the next tide.”
“That we are,” Schumacher confirmed. He gazed at the bay and at the shore. “In less than half an hour. All our cargo is on board and we’re ready to lift sail.”
“Have you room for one more crate?”
Schumacher came down the gangplank. As he did, sailors appeared at the rails, hard, sun-weathered men watching their captain and Chace and the boys with the sharp eyes of ospreys.
“That’s a big one, lad.”
“It’s for the dog,” Chace said.
Schumacher’s bushy eyebrows met over his nose. “Did you just say you have a dog in there?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sending it to my aunt in New Orleans.” Chace pointed at the crate. “You can see the air holes we made.”
Schumacher moved to the bed. Floyd and Harold and the other boys clambered out the back and stood as meek as a church choir. Schumacher raked them with a hard look and said, “Haven’t I seen some of you lads somewhere?”
Chace said quickly, “You might have if you get around town. They’re friends of mine.”
The captain leaned on the buckboard and put an eye to an air hole. “These are so tiny I can’t see anything.”
“There are enough of them the dog should breathe fine.”
Schumacher thumped the crate twice with his fist and when nothing happened he thumped it again. “Awful quiet animal you’ve got in here, lad.”
“I muzzled him,” Chace said. “Otherwise he’d yap up a storm.”
“Even so,” Schumacher said.
“I was also worried about him getting sick so I had an animal doc give him something.”
“A veterinarian?”
“Is that what they call them? The doc said Nick will mostly sleep the first couple of days.”
“Is that the dog’s name? Nick?” Schumacher gave the crate another thump. “Why didn’t you use a cage?”
“I was told dogs had to be in crates when you ship them,” Chace said. “Was I told wrong?”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
“You’ll take him, then?”
“So long as you understand that sending an animal on a ship is a risk. Any animal. Some don’t take to it. I’ll treat it the best I can but I refuse to be held to blame if it dies on the passage.”
“I won’t hold it against you.” Chace pulled out a roll of bills. “How much do I owe you?”
“Thunderation, lad. Where does someone your age get that much money?”
“I work three jobs.”
“Three?” Captain Schumacher repeated, and smiled warmly. “I like that. It shows character. Too many young people today are too damn lazy.” He tapped the crate. “Twenty dollars should do it.”
“I�
��ll pay forty for a favor,” Chace said.
“What kind of favor?”
“When you’re two days out will you open the crate and let Nick have some air and give him a little exercise?”
“I can have one of my crew do it,” Schumacher offered. “And you don’t need to pay extra.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“I’ve owned a few dogs in my time.”
Captain Schumacher put two fingers in his mouth and whistled and several sailors hustled down the gangplank. Schumacher only had to flick a finger and they slid the crate from the buckboard and carried it on their shoulders onto the ship.
Chace paid, and Schumacher held out his hand. A single shake, and the captain wheeled and stuck the pipe back in his mouth and strode back up the gangplank.
Zeke and Floyd and Harold stepped up to Chace.
“That was a neat trick,” Zeke complimented him. “You’re as fast between your ears as you are with your hands.”
“I like that part about the dog,” Harold said. “How do you think of things like that?”
Chace shrugged. “It just comes to me.” He had all of them climb on the wagon. Zeke took the reins and they clattered up the street.
“What now?” Zeke asked.
“We take the buckboard back to Clarence. You go on about your hawking and I do what I have to do.”
“We want to help,” Zeke said.
“No.”
“We owe you,” Floyd said.
“No.”
“You’re being stubborn,” Harold said.
“It’s still no.”
Zeke wouldn’t let it drop. “There are three of them to your one. I’ve seen them. Mean-looking bastards, with bulges under their shirts and the vest the oldest wears. They go heeled.”
“They’re Harkeys,” Chace said. “They’d never go anywhere unarmed, law or no law.”
“We could lure them to the Roost,” Harold said. “Do to them like we did to the deputy.”
“For the last damn time, no, no, and no.” Chace shifted in the seat. “You heard the deputy. My ma and my older sister are dead. My pa before them. This is for me to do and only me and I won’t hear another word about it.”
Fifteen minutes later the buckboard was at the stable and the boys reluctantly drifted off. Chace thanked Clarence and patted Enoch and headed for Madame Bovary’s. As he was winding up the gravel to the mansion, a diminutive figure appeared from out of the rosebushes.
“What the blazes are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on you,” Tallulah said.
“You’re worse than fleas.”
“Who?”
“All of you.” Chace took her hand and led her into a path that wound through the roses. He only went a short way. “You’re to go to the Roost and stay there.”
“What about the Harkeys?”
“Wonderful.”
“They are?”
Chace squatted and put his hands on her shoulders. “Listen, little one. I can’t have you around me now. I have something to do and it’s dangerous.”
“I care about you.”
“And I care about you.” Chace smiled and brushed her bangs from her eyes. “Will you do as I ask? Please?”
Tallulah hung her head. “I love you, Chace Shannon,” she said softly.
“You’re too little to even know what love is.”
“I’m twelve, and I do so. Love is when another person is in your heart. Love is when you think of him all the time. Love is when you’d do anything for him, anything at all.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I wish I was older. I wish I was your age. Then you’d see.”
“I couldn’t ever love you more than I love my twin.”
“I wouldn’t care,” Tallulah said. “I’d take what you could give.” She kissed him on the other cheek, spun, and raced off.
“Damn life, anyway,” Chace said. He stood and returned to the drive and walked up it to the door. The hall was deserted. He went past the paintings and the statue to the pink parlor. It was deserted, too.
“You’re early today.”
Sasha had come from the other end of the hall. She wore a dress that pushed her cleavage toward the ceiling, and a vanilla scent clung to her hair.
“Where’s Madame Bovary?”
“Good to see you, too, you rude lummox. She’s where she usually is at this hour, in her glass room with her flowers.”
Chace went to go around her but Sasha snatched his arm. “Let go,” he said. “I’m in no mood for your silliness.”
“Listen, you country—” Sasha got no further.
Chace pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely full on the mouth. He traced her lips with his tongue and cupped her bottom and pulled her against him. Sasha placed her hands on his chest as if to push him back but she didn’t push. When he stepped back her cleavage was rising up and down. “I’m no boy.”
“No,” Sashsa said huskily. “You’re a bumpkin who takes liberties.”
Chace continued down the hall. At his knock he was bid to enter. Madame Bovary was at the table, sipping tea. She smiled benignly and beckoned.
“What a delightful surprise. It’s been days since we last chatted. Come and take a seat.”
“I reckon I’ll stand.” Chace took off his hat and ran a finger along the brim. “I have something important to say.”
“Spit it out,” Madame Bovary coaxed. “I’m your friend, aren’t I? And friends can always talk to friends.”
“Yes, you are,” Chace acknowledged. “You took me under your wing and gave me a job and for that I’m thankful.”
Madame Bovary’s features betrayed alarm. “What’s this? You sound like you’re saying good-bye.”
“Not exactly,” Chace said. “But if something should happen to me and I don’t show up, it has nothing to do with you.”
“Now I really am worried. Won’t you change your mind and sit a spell and tell me all about it?”
Chace moved to a glass wall that overlooked a grotto with a small pond fed by water cascading over rocks. “I’m too restless to sit. But I’ll tell you this. Life is never how we think it is.”
“How’s that again, dear boy?”
“A year ago I thought I had the world figured out. There was my family and there was the rest of the world. I couldn’t trust anyone but kin. Then I came here and met you, and a little girl, and Jason Drake, and I found out good folk are everywhere.”
“How sweet of you to say.”
“I won’t ever say it again. I’m surprised I’m saying it now. I’m not one for wearing my emotions on my sleeve, as my ma used to say.”
“Most men don’t,” Madame Bovary said. “To them it’s a weakness, like being female.”
Chace watched a hummingbird flit about a feeder. “My ma was strong inside. Stronger than my pa, the truth be known. But I didn’t come to talk about her. I came to talk about my twin.”
“You don’t say,” Madame Bovary said. “Twin brother or twin sister?”
“Sister. She’s as close to me as my skin. I ran off and left her when I shouldn’t have. It could be she’ll show up looking for me, and if she does, and you don’t hear from me again, I’d like for you to tell her something for me.” Chace turned and moved to the table next to his benefactor. “Will you do that?”
“Need you even ask?” Madame Bovary patted his arm.
“Tell her ...” Chace averted his face. “Tell her I’m sorry we were born brother and sister.”
Madame Bovary recoiled. “What a terrible thing to say. I’ll tell her no such thing.”
“There’s more,” Chace said. “Tell her I’m sorry we weren’t born cousins because cousins can do what we can’t ever.”
“Marry?” Madame Bovary said, and laughed. “Surely you’re not suggesting that she and you ...” She swallowed, and said, “Oh my.”
Chace bent and kissed her on the brow. He put his hat on and strode to the door.
“Wait. What was that about not hearin
g from you? What on earth is going on, Chace? What is this about?”
“Playing cards,” Chace said.
“A game of poker? I’ve heard that Jason Drake is teaching you to play.”
“I’m talking about life. We are the deck and life is the joker.”
“I don’t understand.”
Chace opened the door. “I’m about to cut the cards. High card, I live. Low card, I don’t.” And with that he smiled and walked out.
31
The Dirty Molly had a fitting name; the building was streaked with grime. It was on the outskirts of Galveston in a part of town the churchgoing crowd avoided. The rail on the hitch in front was broken, so those who came to slake their thirst tied their mounts to the uprights.
Chace Shannon stood under the overhang of a haberdashery across the street and watched those who came and went. The Dirty Molly and saloons on either side were doing a brisk business. He adjusted his hat and smoothed his frock coat and stuck his hands in the pockets and moved into the street.
It was close to midnight. The streetlamps had been lit, but their glow barely reached the batwings.
Chace took in the bustle. Every table filled with poker players or those bucking the tiger or spinning the wheel of chance. The bar was lined from end to end. Women in saucy dresses moved among men who had drunk too much, enticing them to drink more. A thick cloud of cigar and pipe smoke hung thick in the air.
Pushing on the batwing, Chace went in. He stepped to the right so his back was to the wall. No one paid any attention. He scanned the tables and the bar.
A dumpling of a woman with lips like cucumbers swayed up to him and winked. “See anything you like, youngster?” Her breath reeked of cheap liquor and her eyes were bloodshot.
“Go away.”
She winked again. “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”
“Show me one and I won’t.”
“Here, now,” the woman said. “I won’t be insulted by no sprout. What are you, all of fifteen?”
“What I am,” Chace said, “is someone you do not want to rile.”
“Oh, really?” She tittered and shammed a scared expression. “Should I faint now or later?”
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