by Dunlap, Phil
Cotton chuckled at Arlo’s assumption that living with Melody was akin to lying in a bed of roses. As the bartender got to know her better, he’d soon learn the error of his ways. Wondering if he should face Melody’s wrath by walking in on their little love nest brought a frown to the sheriff. Rather than ruin an otherwise peaceful day, he leaned over to the bartender and whispered to him.
“Tell Jack, when he comes down, that I’ll be out at the Wagner ranch for a few hours. Don’t forget, Arlo, it’s important. No one else needs to know.”
“Okay, Sheriff.”
As the business day neared its end, not one person had stepped inside the new Havens Bank and Loan. Bart was furious by five o’clock, and he let Ben and Delilah know exactly how he felt. Ranting and raving, he roared through to his office, summoned Delilah, and again slammed the door.
“How dare they treat me like this. I’ll teach them not to ignore Bart Havens. First, I want you to put an ad in that weekly piece of trash they call a newspaper. Make it bold. Tell ’em we’re offering loans at no interest to the first ten people who come in. And say that the interest rate on all deposits will start at fifteen percent annually. You got that?”
“I don’t believe it will be printed for three days, uh—”
“I want the damned thing out no later than tomorrow evening! Pay that ignorant editor enough to change his mind. The greedy bastard will do it for enough money.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.” She started to leave, but he grabbed her by the arm. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.
“I’m not through. Find Sleeve Jackson and tell him and his boys to meet me here at ten o’clock tonight. Tell him to come in through the back door. They must not be seen. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
He released his grip on her and waved her out of the room. He plopped sullenly into his chair, tapping his fingers on the desktop as he swore a stream of obscenities under his breath.
Chapter 24
“Jack, I’m concerned about some of those gun toters that have been hanging around downstairs. Where’d they come from? I haven’t seen that many hard cases in one place since right after the war,” Melody said as she slipped out of her lacy gown and sat on the edge of the bed. Jack was propped up on several pillows with his fingers interlocked behind his head.
“If what Cotton suspects is true, they are here at the request of Bart Havens. And that’s not good news for any of us.” He reached over to the table next to the bed and took up a glass of brandy, sipping it. “Including you.”
“I don’t give a damn about Cotton Burke, but I do care what happens to you, Jack.”
“Then you better care about him, too, because whatever trouble is coming, I’m up to my ass in it. Remember, Whitey Granville tried to shoot me first.”
“Yeah, but I suspect he meant it for the sheriff.”
“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll never know . . . now. One thing’s for sure, his little brother Plink is in town, and my guess is he wants revenge.”
“Is that your guess or Cotton’s?”
“Does it really make a difference, Melody? A man out to kill someone can just as easily get the wrong man as the right one. Cotton’s the best thing this town ever had, at least that’s what I’m told by damn near everybody I come across. You’d be well advised to soften your hard heart a bit.”
“And just why should I do that?”
“Well, if one of these cayuses starts a ruckus in your fancy new bordello, and I’m off elsewhere, Cotton could be the only one standing between saving the placing and letting it go to hell.”
“He wouldn’t let—”
“He might if you don’t change your attitude about him.”
“Are you tellin’ me how to conduct my business?”
“Nope. Make up your own mind. I’m just tryin’ to give you a little good advice, that’s all.”
Melody was steamed at being dressed down by her lover. She stuck out her chin, crossed her arms, and turned away from him. He knew he’d gotten as far with her as he was going to get. He stood up, pulled on his pants and boots, slipped into his shirt, retrieved his gun belt, and headed for the door.
“Just where do you think you’re goin’?” Melody said with ice in her voice.
“Downstairs to watch the comin’s and goin’s of the riffraff. A deputy’s duty, in case you didn’t know.”
He pulled the door closed behind him as he heard Melody stomp her foot and utter a very unladylike comment.
Jack was looking over the shoulders of a couple of cardplayers when Delilah peeked in over the batwing doors and looked around. If she saw him, she made no attempt to acknowledge it. When she spied Sleeve Jackson sitting with two others along one wall, she slipped inside and walked up to their table. She bent over, whispered something in Sleeve’s ear, then left quietly and quickly.
A few seconds later, Sleeve said something to the man sitting next to him, got up, scraped his meager winnings into his hat, and strolled out the door. Jack watched the discourse, then followed Sleeve out front, where he could see the man hurriedly making his way down the boardwalk in the direction of the hotel.
Seeing Jack come out of the saloon with a puzzled look on his face, Cotton crossed the street and came over to him.
“You got a bug up your nose, Jack?”
“No. But I saw Delilah whisper something to that gent strollin’ down towards the hotel. Since we know Delilah works for Havens, I was considerin’ followin’ that hombre, maybe find out who he is. And what he’s up to.”
“Now you’re startin’ to think like a lawman. Let me know what you find.” Cotton turned and walked away as Jack set off after the mystery man.
Jack stopped three doors down from the hotel in position to be able to watch the Havens Bank. Staying back in the shadows, he waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
Ten minutes later, Sleeve came out the hotel’s front door followed by four of the town’s newly acquired gunslingers, Plink Granville bringing up the rear. Plink wobbled from post to pillar in an attempt to keep from falling down. It was late enough in the day that his drunkenness had now fully overtaken his senses. All five of them slipped around back of the Havens Bank and Loan. There were no sounds of horses leaving, so it could be reasonably assumed they had all entered through the bank’s rear door. Jack moved close to the building and stood in the darkened space between the bank and the gunsmith’s shop.
“We’re all here, Mr. Havens, all except J.J. Bleeker. Didn’t have time to ride out and bring him in. But first light, I’ll go tell him whatever you’re about to say,” Sleeve said.
Havens was clearly distressed about something. He couldn’t stop pacing around the room. After several minutes, he pounded his hand on his desk, making a sound as sharp as a pistol shot.
“Boys, there wasn’t one citizen of this wretched town that had the gumption to come in and inquire about opening an account or checking on loan rates. Not one! I figure Cotton Burke’s got something to do with that. If he’s out spreading lies about me, well, the time has come to eliminate that which is standing in the way of our success.”
“Does that mean you want us to take him down, Mr. Havens?”
“It does. And the sooner the better. But we need to conjure up a plan first.”
“You got something in mind, sir?” Buck Kentner asked.
“Now that you mention it, Buck, I do indeed.”
“We’re all here and ready to hear what you got to say,” Sleeve said.
“If you were to all go up against him at once, right out there in the middle of the street, it would scare the hell out of the townsfolk. That wouldn’t help our cause. We need the folks hereabouts to keep whatever might happen to our unfortunate lawman separate from this bank. The overall plan is to fleece the town and light out with every damned cent we can get our hands on. That clear?”
“It is. But I thought you said that you wanted to get even with the sheriff. If we kill him, ho
w’s he goin’ to know why we’re here? A dead man can’t see the error of his ways, can he?” Plink’s words were somewhat garbled, coming as they were through an alcoholic fog. But in a twisted sort of way, he made sense, enough so that the others muttered their agreement.
Bart squinted and pinched his lips. While the others were probably assuming he would put Plink in his place, that wasn’t what the wily thief did. Instead, he waited for several moments before replying.
“Plink, you’ve given me an idea. What you said has the ring of truth to it. To make the plan the success I’m seeking, we need to find a way to make that damned sheriff our scapegoat.”
“How we gonna do that?” Comanche Dan said.
“I don’t know just yet, but I’m thinking Delilah just might be the answer.” Havens smiled and sat down in his swivel chair. He pulled a piece of paper in front of him and began scrawling words on it with a scratchy pen that he dipped repeatedly in an inkwell.
“If I may ask, what’cha writin’ there, sir?” Black Duck Slater asked.
“The beginnin’ of the end for Sheriff Burke, my boy.” He wrote several more sentences, then blew on the paper to make sure the ink was dry. He then folded the paper in half and held it out to Sleeve, who took it with trepidation.
“What is this, Mr. Havens?” Sleeve asked.
“Never you mind. Just take it to Delilah at the hotel. You needn’t wait for her to reply. She’ll know what to do. Make sure she gets it without delay.”
Sleeve took the paper and left the room, again by the back door. The moonless night made finding his way through the many obstacles in the alley treacherous. There were boxes, barrels, broken glass, and empty cans with lids jagged from being pried open. He stumbled several times before making it to the street, nearly bumping into Jack, who was retreating from his recent hiding place out front.
“My apologies, sir. I wasn’t watching where I was goin’,” Jack said.
Sleeve said something unintelligible and kept on going straightaway toward the hotel. On the porch, before going inside to find Delilah, Sleeve’s curiosity got the best of him. He unfolded the note and leaned under a lantern to read it. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“She expecting you?” answered the clerk when asked Delilah’s room number.
Sleeve’s burning glare told the clerk an answer would not be forthcoming.
Chapter 25
“I got a message that you wanted to see me, Emily. Something happen out here?”
“No. But I do need to discuss a matter of importance. Come inside, Cotton, and let’s have a brandy.” Without waiting for an answer, she led the way into the large main room. She went to a side table, picked up a cut-glass decanter, and poured two small glasses half-full. She handed him one and then proceeded to sit on the long leather couch. When he started to take a seat in the chair across from her, she patted the empty place beside her. He took it.
“What’s this all about?”
“You, me, us,” she said, taking a small sip, then half turning to look him straight in the eyes.
Whatever she was about to say was making him nervous. He began to fidget in his seat. If she was about to tell him that their relationship was all over, she had sure picked a bad time to do it. Keeping a clear head was of utmost importance right now, particularly since the town seemed to be filling up with rattlesnakes. The two-legged kind. And losing her would certainly add to the stress of the situation.
“Uh, what about us?”
“When I was growing up, my mother told me something that has stuck with me ever since. She said, ‘Never keep secrets. Secrets tear down trust, and no relationship can survive that.’ She was right, you know.”
Cotton felt a chill. The very thing she was saying was what he’d been guilty of just two days before. He hadn’t come clean about his past, and now it was coming back to haunt him.
“I reckon she was right. The thing is, sometimes the truth can hurt a relationship more than help it.”
“Not if two people love and trust each other. If I had something in my past that I was ashamed of, or fearful that if it got out folks would think less of me, I’d have to get it out in the open before it smothered me. Or worse.”
Cotton sat staring at the fireplace, empty of wood but ready for the coming fall temperatures to beckon a roaring blaze and fill the room with warmth. It was a beautiful fireplace, large and well built. Built by hand from rocks found around the clearing where the house now stood. Otis Wagner had put his talents to the task and built it solidly. Cotton wondered if Emily thought about her deceased husband every time she lit a match to it.
“Do you understand what I’m sayin’, Cotton?”
“I’m afraid I do, and I’m not certain what to say. Some things should be locked away, I’m convinced. Sneaking a cookie when you are a child is one thing, but deliberately killing someone is quite another. I don’t think all truths can be counted as equal.”
“You are right, of course. But building a complete trust between two people requires truth that knows no such limitations.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to confess some of the things I’ve managed to put away. There are things better hidden than brought to light, at least to my mind.”
“If there were some terrible secrets I had hidden away, and you found out years down the road, wouldn’t that change how you look at me?”
“Nope.”
“Even if I’d broken the law?”
“Nope.”
Emily stared at him for several minutes as if she were attempting to delve deeply into his thoughts. Finally, she shook her head and sighed.
“I suppose I’ll never really understand you, Cotton Burke, but I intend to love you anyway. I’m sorry for pushing you away for not giving me an answer the other evening.”
“Emily, there’s nothing in my past that I’m ashamed of. Sure a couple of indiscretions with a lady of the evening here and there, but that’s all in the past. As for other things, there have been times I’ve strayed from the strict letter of the law, but I’m still not backing down from the righteousness of my part in them. And I care not one whit about your past, only that our future is one of togetherness.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Sleeve rapped on Delilah’s door. He could hear her shuffling about, probably putting on some slippers or whatever it is a woman wears when greeting guests.
“Who is it?” she called out.
“Sleeve Jackson, ma’am,” he answered.
“One moment, Mr. Jackson.” The moment turned into nearly five minutes. Sleeve was getting nervous standing in the hallway, for fear of being seen by someone who might report him as trying to spy on hotel guests. He really didn’t have any idea what the sight of a gunslinger loitering in a hotel hallway might evoke, but he knew it probably wasn’t good. The door opened a crack, just enough for him to see a pair of beautiful eyes peering out at him.
“Now, Mr. Jackson, what is it you’ve come for? I’m really not dressed to receive guests.”
“I was sent here to give you this note from Mr. Havens, ma’am. That’s all.”
She opened the door sufficiently to reach out and allow him to put the paper in her hand. In doing so, her robe fell open just enough that Sleeve was instantly aroused. His breathing quickened and his palms began to sweat. He could smell her perfume, a fragrance that drove him crazy each time he saw her. He hadn’t been with a woman for months, and never even close to one this beautiful.
“I, uh, would be happy, uh, to come inside and wait for an answer, if you—”
Delilah quickly recognized the position she was in and acted to avoid what could fast become a dangerous turn of events. Gathering her robe together, she slammed the door shut and turned the key in the lock. She spoke to him through the door.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Jackson. If the note requires an answer, I shall get dressed and deliver it myself. Thank you.”
Sleeve was embarrassed
by the rejection. She’d been shrewd enough to see through his offer to await an answer inside her room. Damn, he thought. She sure as hell was lookin’ purty. He left the hotel, but stopped in the middle of the street, paused as if in deep thought, then proceeded to Melody’s Palace of Pleasure. She’s got some women there that can take care of a man’s problem.
He’d just walked through the door when a skinny girl of no more than twenty greeted him with a come-hither smile. Her hair was a mousey brown, straight, and still damp from her last encounter with an anxious cowboy. She took Sleeve’s hand and walked him to the bar.
“You look like you could use a drink and some female company,” she said.
“You’re right on both them things, ma’am.” Sleeve was nervous and overly eager to get down to business. “But, offhand, I’d have to say the female company is uppermost in my mind.”
“Well, then if you have a dollar, we could go upstairs and visit for a spell. How’s that sound?”
Sleeve hastily began fishing around in his pocket. He withdrew a dollar and thrust it into the girl’s outstretched palm. “Sounds fine, now can we get to it?”
He couldn’t get the sight of Delilah out of his mind. But he was damn sure going to try, at least temporarily. He took the girl by the hand and almost yanked her out of her shoes in his haste to climb those stairs.
Safely inside her room, Delilah sat on the edge of her bed and unfolded the note from Havens. She read it over carefully, three times. She was boiling hot at what she’d just read. It was one thing for Bart to use her to help promote his crooked banking operation, but it was quite another to be considered nothing but a cheap slut to be used in any way he saw fit. This time, he’d turned about-face and was ordering her to send a message to Memphis Jack suggesting she hungered for his company and begging him to meet her. It went unsaid why Bart had concocted such a plan, but it was clear it had something to do with the overall plot to destroy the sheriff who he felt had stood in the way of his success long enough.
She was at a crossroads. If she refused his orders, she was certain to suffer an even more severe punishment than a bruised cheek and cut lip. On the other hand, what would happen to Jack, a man she’d loved once, and likely could again, given the opportunity?