“No, Clarence, nothing like that. We’re just talking about somebody who used to mean a lot to me.”
Jake ordered one more whiskey, and the kid named Clarence came around Mellie and stood before him in a challenging stance. Jake tried to remember why the name Clarence rang a bell. Wasn’t that the name of the kid who had tried to rape Randy? This couldn’t be the same one. That kid had been traveling with a preacher. He couldn’t be the tobacco-chewing, gunslinging man-child who stood before him now.
“Part of my job here, mister, is to keep an eye out to make sure nobody comes in here and hurts or upsets the girls,” the boy told Jake. “You made Mellie here cry, so maybe you’d just better leave.”
“Clarence, I told you it’s got nothing to do with him. Leave him alone.” Mellie moved in front of the young man, but Clarence shoved her out of the way.
Jake drank down another shot of whiskey and took his cheroot from an ashtray on the bar. He stuck it in his mouth and puffed on it a moment, studying the snot-nosed kid before him. Why in hell was he doing this? “I think you’ve had a little too much whiskey, boy. It’s making you do something real stupid. Now I’m warning you, I’m in a damn bad mood right now, and you don’t even want to see what I can do when I’m in a good mood, so if you have any brains in that skull at all, you’ll back off right now while you’re still healthy.”
Clarence rested his hands on his hips in a haughty stance. He was standing up to this big man with the big guns, and he liked the feel of it, especially with Mellie and his boss and others watching. He felt confident. After all, he knew most of the men in here, figured they’d back him up. This man surely realized it wouldn’t be wise to try anything when he was surrounded by men who would jump in against him.
“I saw you the other night when you came into town with Mrs. Hayes,” he told Jake. “I’ve been wondering about that, who you really are, how the pretty widow woman ended up taking up with the likes of you. Are you really her husband, or just another traveler helping out the poor widow in distress?”
Jake straightened, slowly setting down his shot glass and studying the young man. Good God, was this Clarence Gaylord? The little sonofabitch! “Her name is Mrs. Turner now, and I’m Jake Turner. Maybe you can tell Mellie here and anybody else who’s listening just how you know my wife, Clarence. It is Clarence Gaylord, isn’t it?” Several men sitting closest had already stopped their drinking and cardplaying to watch the confrontation.
“First you tell me how in hell she ended up with you,” Clarence challenged.
Mellie herself backed away then, confused by what was happening. She didn’t like Clarence. Ever since that first night she had taken his money for sex, he had begun hanging around, being a nuisance. He seemed to think he ought to be her favorite, that he should be able to come and see her for free whenever he had the yen, just because he worked here now. He was a cocky, stupid kid eager to be a man and prove he could hold his whiskey with the rest of them. “You’d better be careful, Clarence. This man doesn’t look like any ordinary Joe,” she warned.
“Shut up, Mellie! I know he’s pretty good with a gun once it’s drawn. I just don’t know how fast he is at drawing it.”
Jake almost laughed. “Go dry yourself behind the ears, boy. You try drawing on me, and I’ll blow you clear into the wall behind you! Fact is, I ought to do it anyway after what you did to my wife!”
“Yeah? Well, before you do that, maybe you’ll tell me how it is Mrs. Hayes got to be your wife, if that’s really true.”
“I don’t owe you any explanations, you little sonofabitch! Why don’t you tell everybody how she trusted you and that preacher uncle of yours, how she was a widow woman trying to get here all the way from Kansas just to find her brother. Tell them how you attacked her and tried to rape her, and how your good Christian uncle left her to die after she got snakebit!”
Clarence began to redden a little. He didn’t like being embarrassed this way in front of men who knew him, especially not in front of his boss and Mellie. He hadn’t wanted any of them to know his uncle was a preacher. God, he’d like to kill this man! It would make him look big, really big. And it would leave Mrs. Hayes or Mrs. Turner or whatever she called herself a widow again, alone in a town where all kinds of things could happen to a woman like her.
He backed up a little, and men began moving out of the way. Was this man really fast with a gun, or just a big bluff? He’d gotten pretty good himself, had been practicing. “Your wife lied to you, mister. It wasn’t that way at all. I never tried to rape her. She was a widow woman hungry for a man, and I accommodated her. When my uncle caught us, she cried rape, but my uncle knew what she really was. She was a troublemaker! That’s why my uncle left her at that trading post. She was too much a temptation for me and his brothers. He was afraid we’d all end up fighting over the slut.”
The whole room quieted at the words, and Jake moved to face Clarence more squarely. “You’re a cocky, lying little rapist, Gaylord! You’re itching to draw on me, so go ahead. I’d like nothing better than to blow your privates clear down the mountain! I tried to warn you, but you’re too fucking stupid to know when to quit! I’d advise you to take back your words and tell these people the truth.”
“I believe your side, mister,” Mellie put in. “You’d better apologize, Clarence. You’ve got yourself in too deep already.”
“That’s right.” Jake seethed. “Only it’s too late for an apology.” He pushed his jacket behind his guns. “Go ahead, boy. Show Mellie here what a big man you are!”
Clarence swallowed, his whole body suddenly bathed in perspiration. What had he gotten himself into? He’d started this. Now he had to finish it. Maybe, just maybe, he was faster than this man. He went for his gun, but he had barely touched the handle to pull it out when one of Jake’s guns was already out and aimed directly under his nose.
“You dumb sonofabitch,” Jake snarled. He came closer, grabbed Clarence’s gun from its holster and tossed it aside. Quickly his booted foot came up between Clarence’s legs, making the boy cry out and bend over. Before he went all the way down, Jake brought his knee into his face, and the sound of his nose breaking could be heard all over the room. No one made a move to interfere, most astounded at the speed with which Jake had drawn the gun.
Clarence crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath and holding his privates. Jake was on him then, shoving him onto his back and forcing the barrel of his ivory-handled .45 into the boy’s mouth. Blood poured from Clarence’s nose across his cheeks and into his ears, and he stared wide-eyed at Jake, making little whimpering sounds as terror engulfed him. Jake shoved a knee against the boy’s chest to pin him down, and he cocked the gun.
“You know what happens when you stick a gun in a man’s mouth and pull the trigger, boy?” he growled. “It’s not a pretty sight! Now you listen up good. If you were a grown man, I’d splatter your brains all over this room! You’re getting a break because you’re a stupid, goddamn kid! But if I ever see you anywhere near my wife, or if you give her or me any trouble at all, I won’t be so accommodating next time! You picked the wrong man to prove yourself, you little bastard!”
Clarence began to choke at the feel of the end of the gun barrel against his throat, the taste of metal. He had never known such terror in his life, nor such humiliation. Jake finally yanked the gun out of his mouth, and he rolled over and threw up, grunting with fear when Jake yanked at his shirt to grab a piece of it to wipe off his gun.
“You’ve had your warning, kid.” Jake shoved the gun back into its holster. “Pay attention to it and thank God you’re still alive!” He stepped back to the bar and glanced around the room, seeing no one who looked willing to give him any trouble. He looked at Mellie then. “Will you come with me and tell my wife what you know about her brother? She might have questions only you could answer.”
Mellie looked down at herself. “If she won’t mind talking to
a…to somebody like me. Let me change clothes first. I’ll be right back.”
She turned and hurried up the stairs, and Jake watched Clarence, who was apparently not so well-liked. No one made a move to help him as he bent over, crying and choking.
“Clean up that stinkin’ mess, Clarence,” the man behind the bar shouted. “If you’re gonna puke again, do it outside.”
Clarence got up and ran out the back door, and the bartender offered Jake another whiskey. “Don’t worry about anybody believin’ that kid,” he told him. “He’s been hangin’ around here puttin’ on airs about bein’ a big man. He talks big, but we all know he ain’t nothin’.”
Jake took the whiskey, figuring he needed one more to deal with the torrent of emotions churning inside him. He had to tell poor Randy that her brother was dead. They had come to this hellhole for nothing. Now she would have to have her baby here, and he wasn’t sure he could be a decent father. Now this thing with Clarence Gaylord. The stupid kid was only eighteen, but he had hurt him bad. Was he wrong to do that? Visions of his own father lighting into him brought knots to his stomach.
Mellie came back down the stairs wearing a woolen coat. She walked up to the man behind the bar. “I have to go talk to this man’s wife, Toby, about her brother. I knew him. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” She looked up at Jake. “Let’s go.”
Jake followed her out, and the rest of the men returned to their cardplaying. At nearly every table the conversation was about the man with the guns who called himself Jake Turner. None had ever seen anyone draw so fast. A few glanced at Clarence when he came back in holding a handkerchief to his nose, tears on his pale face. He carried a few rags and used them to clean up his vomit, still shaking from thinking Jake Turner would blow his head off.
The way he was raised, Clarence never knew a man could hate so much. He felt humiliated, felt like a fool, and it was all because of that sonofabitch Miranda Hayes had married. Indirectly, the bitch had brought him down again, embarrassed him again. If he could ever find a way to get back at her and that big bastard she married, he’d find it! He hated both of them so bad it made him feel sick again, and he ran back outside to throw up for the third time.
Fourteen
Jake closed the doors to the tidy parlor of Mrs. Anderson’s boardinghouse. He liked this place. It was the nicest home he’d ever lived in, and he hoped he could make as nice a place for Randy someday. Lace curtains and braided rugs and lovely plants decorated the room, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace. He was not used to living like this, but it was something he wouldn’t mind getting used to. Then again, maybe he wasn’t meant to live this way. Maybe it was too late for a man who had lived in shacks and above saloons all his life. It all depended on Randy and if she still wanted him. He’d hurt her badly this morning, and he saw how she watched him now, knew what she must think of him bringing someone like Mellie here. She probably thought he’d been with the woman. Mellie had changed into a simpler dress, but the paint on her face and the dangly earrings readily told what she really was.
“I asked Mrs. Anderson to let us be alone in here,” he said, turning to Randy.
She looked from Jake to the woman he had introduced as Mellie. Was he trying to throw this in her face to make her hate him more so she would leave him? Jealousy raged in her soul. How dare another woman touch her Jake!
“This isn’t what you think, Randy,” Jake spoke up quickly. He came over to kneel in front of her. “I brought Mellie here because she knew your brother. I’ve been asking all over town all day long, and I finally found somebody who can settle things for us.” He took her hand but she pulled it away, glaring at Mellie.
“You know my brother? Why isn’t he here? Does he make a habit of hanging out with women like you?”
Jake grasped her arms. “Randy, don’t insult her. She was a good friend to Wes. I brought her here in case you had any questions I might not think to ask. Randy, look at me.”
She met his eyes, her heart quickening at the sorrow there.
“I’m damn sorry about this morning. We have a lot to talk about, but right now—” He sighed deeply. “Wes is dead, Randy. He was killed in a mining accident almost a year ago.”
Miranda just stared at him, the words roaring in her ears. That couldn’t be! Wes was her last living kin. “Do you have proof?”
“I’m your proof,” Mellie spoke up.
“Why should I believe you?”
Mellie stepped closer. “Honey, I’ve got no reason to lie about it. Wes and I were good friends. Some of the other men knew it. When he was killed in an explosion, they brought his body to town. I saw it with my own eyes. It was Wes. I made sure he got a nice burial. If you want, I can take you to the graveyard and show you where he’s buried. I made the undertaker put up a headstone with his name and age on it. I’m real sorry you came all the way here for nothing.”
Miranda felt the tears wanting to come. How could this be? Her father, her mother, her husband, now her brother. And Jake. Did she even still have Jake? She looked at him, felt his hand come over hers again. This time she did not pull away. “Do you believe her?” she asked. “You…you know women like her better than I do.”
“I believe her. She even started crying when I showed her the picture. And don’t be rude to her, Randy. She didn’t have to come here.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m damn sorry about Wes. If I could change things, I would. I’d even take his place, if that would make you happier.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “Don’t say that.”
He put a hand to her face and wiped at the tear with his thumb. “Is there anything you want to ask Mellie?”
She sniffed, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress and wiping at her eyes more. She looked up at Mellie. “I’m sorry to act so rude. There are other reasons I was upset when you walked in with my husband.”
Mellie felt a little embarrassed at witnessing a tender scene between a husband and wife. “It’s all right. Women like me are pretty tough-skinned.”
Just like Jake, Miranda thought. “Was Wes happy?” she asked aloud. “Did he ever talk about our father? About me?”
Mellie smiled. “Sure he did, but he mostly referred to both of you as just ‘Pa’ and ‘my sister.’ I wasn’t even sure what your name was, or I might have tried to write and let you know what happened. Besides that, I didn’t know if you’d appreciate hearing about him from somebody like me. He was happy, because he was doing something he really wanted to do. He told me he had gotten bored with farming, but he felt a little guilty about leaving you and your pa.” She shrugged. “Hell, he was young and wanted some adventure, that’s all. Lots of men that age get the yen to strike out on their own. He had big dreams about finding his own claim, but he ended up working at one of the mines instead. He made good money, but I’m afraid he gambled most of it away every week. He only had about twenty dollars on him when he died. I used that for his burial and grave marker. I hope that was all right.”
Miranda rose and walked closer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to take us tomorrow to show us his grave.”
“Sure. I don’t mind.”
Miranda studied her, guessed her to be perhaps thirty. It was hard to tell. The woman had a hard look to her, had obviously had a rough time. What made women choose this life? She thought of Jake’s remark back when she first met him, about how some women like this did what they did because they’d been abused as he had. Who was she to judge? “I hope you were good to him.”
Mellie almost laughed at the innocent remark. She glanced at Jake and knew he was thinking the same thing, but she kept a sober look. The sadness of the occasion far outweighed the humor the remark would otherwise have evoked. “As good as I could be,” she answered. “We didn’t always…well, you know.” She reddened a little. “Sometimes he just wanted to talk, so I listened. That happens a lot here. These men get lonely, miss their
family, get their expectations dashed to the ground. It’s not as easy to come to a place like this and get rich as one might think.”
Miranda swallowed back a lump in her throat. “Did he…suffer?”
Mellie shook her head. “They told me he was killed instantly. They use lots of dynamite in those mines. Accidents like that are pretty frequent.”
Miranda nodded. She reached out and surprised Mellie by hugging her. “Thank you for being his friend, and for coming here to tell me. Can you be here tomorrow morning around ten?”
Mellie glanced at Jake again. She had a feeling he knew that women like her seldom got up before one o’clock in the afternoon. There was something about the man that told her he was familiar with saloons and whores. How had he ended up with this lovely woman who was obviously a proper lady? He was so big and dark and dangerous-looking, and she was so small and refined.
“Why don’t we make it around two, Randy?” Jake suggested, to Mellie’s relief. “It will be warmer midday. I don’t want you getting chilled in your condition.”
“Fine. I’ll see you at two then.”
Mellie nodded.
“You want me to walk you back? It’s dark out there,” Jake spoke up.
Mellie laughed lightly. “You don’t really think that matters, do you?”
“Sure it matters.”
“I’m all right. Just about every man in this town knows me. I’m safe.” She smiled rather sadly. “Besides, there isn’t much a man can do to me that hasn’t already been done now, is there? You stay here and comfort your wife, Mr. Turner. I’ll be by tomorrow.”
The woman left, and Miranda just stood staring at the doors. The ordeal of the journey to get here, the horror of being left to die at the trading post, and the terror of her pain and of the men who cared for her, all combined with the thought today that Jake might go back to his old life, crashed in on her on one wave of emotion. Now to learn that Wes was dead, that she had given up so much and risked so much to come here for nothing, brought her such terrible grief and disappointment, she grabbed the back of a chair to keep from falling.
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