Microsoft Word - Jenny dreamed

by kps

His wife began to cry in earnest now, her wailing rising to an irritating pitch. The sheriff wisely told him he'd been helpful enough, and the wails were quieted to a sniffle.

  Ten minutes later the group of volunteers had been deputized and the posse was mounted and headed south out of town, with Dev sharing the lead. Even riding hard, it would take them a while just to reach the scene of the robbery. From there, if Dev was lucky enough to pick up a good set of tracks, they were still far behind the gang.

  The morning sky had been overcast and by late afternoon the rain that had threatened during the day became a reality. A wind came up from the direction in which they were headed; and not ten minutes after they'd reached the low spot between two hills where the stage was stopped, the black, swirling clouds seemed to boil over to release a torrential downpour.

  There were more than a few curses as the men were forced to stop and pull the oiled rain slickers from their saddle bags. Only Dev ignored the rain, letting his thin shirt and pants be drenched through as he summoned all his instincts and the keen, hunting skills the Blackfoot had taught him. The rancher's daughter had been right. A faint and quickly disappearing set of tracks led off through the trees on the south hill and seemed to veer to the west.

  Dev stood looking in that direction, the mounted posse milling impatiently behind him. The rain poured down his face, plastered his shirt until it seemed to be part of his flesh, and still he remained immobile as though he were unaware of the elements worsening around him with each passing minute. There was a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth that had been with him since they'd left Langdon. It would remain until he found Jennifer Bryant.

  He refused to think about what they would do to her. If the gang was Stanner's, and he was sure it was, then a girl as pretty as Jennifer would most certainly fall to Beau Stanner himself.

  The man was a former captain in the Confederacy. He was inaking a name for himself in this area, robbing gold shipments out of Helena, though he had always concentrated before on the much larger shipments headed south of the gold-mining center, not north.

  The people who had been robbed remarked upon the gentlemanly manners of Cap'n Beau, but Dev knew the man was also a fast and accurate shot and didn't hesitate to draw his gun. Another fact puzzled him. Stanner had never before taken hostages. If he was out to abduct women, why hadn't he also taken Corey Brackston? She was pretty, and, by all accounts, the maid Jennifer Bryant was traveling with was not.

  "Well? Which way, Cantrell? Were you able to pick up anything clear enough to follow?"

  Crandall fired the questions in rapid succession. He was tired from the ride and annoyed by the rain that still insinuated itself into the neck opening of his slicker.

  "I say they're headin' for Helena." Dev's voice was loud, rising above the crooning of the wind, and a few of the men groaned at the idea of heading so far south in this weather.

  Crandall digested this in silence, and his regular deputy, J.R. Wells, spoke up after conferring with several of the volunteers.

  "How is it you're so sure, Cantrell? With this damn rain coverin' their tracks, they coulda'

  gone east or west an' we'd be followin' nothin'. If it was me towin' a couple a ladies I shouldn't have, I sure as hell wouldn't drag 'em into Helena!" This elicited laughter from a few of the men, but only to relieve the tension and damp, already weary feeling that seemed to penetrate deep into their bones. Two women in the possession of an outlaw gang was serious business.

  Crandall finally spoke, wiping the rain from his face before he settled his soaked hat back on his head. "Boys are right, Dev. We're losin' time an' light arguin'. We'd best split up and fan out east an' west. If you're headin' into Helena, check in with Sheriff Marley. If they're hidin'

  somewhere near, he might' a' got drift-ain't too much goes on he don't know 'bout." With the heavy cloud cover of the storm, it seemed like it was almost dusk. On a clear day they might have had another good hour's light.

  Dev frowned but kept his thoughts to himself. They were all off on a wild goose chase, but, then, maybe he was better off slipping into town himself. There was more of a chance he could sniff out their hiding place. He told Crandall he'd do that, though he wasn't sure that Marley would be that much help. After all, the gang had been robbing in his jurisdiction now for months, and he hadn't caught them.

  The men were divided into two groups, one riding west under Crandall's lead, the other east with Wells in charge. Though it was an empty hope, Dev wished them luck. He pulled out his rain slicker, then mounted the stallion and headed due south.

  As he rode, he rolled the details of the robbery over in his mind. The gang had purposely waited to hit the stage 'til it was near Langdon, when they could have stopped it anytime after it left Helena. He was sure they'd done it to throw off the authorities, and apparently it had worked. They were headed for Helena, all right, and he'd find them, with or without the help of the town's sheriff.

  As the pitch-black darkness of night settled over the area, Dev continued to follow the stage road south, maintaining as hard and fast a pace as he could over the muddy path whose deep ruts had filled with water. Several hours later he arrived in Penbury, stopping only long enough to inquire if anyone had seen a group of riders pass by heading south. No one had, but Dev had figured on that. They would have skirted the town, stopping somewhere off the trail to rest before they headed for Helena. He bought a few provisions, downed a glass of whisky for warmth, and was mounted and on his way within fifteen minutes.

  It was past three in the morning when Dev finally made Helena. The weather had worsened, and the wind seemed to push him back two miles for every mile he progressed. Most of the town was dark and shuttered, with only a pale glow showing through the window of the sheriff's office; but further down on the "line," the row of saloons and dancehalls was doing a lively business.

  Dev took a minute to stop at the sheriff's office, though he had no illusions about the assistance he'd get. When he entered, a tall, rangy man wearing a deputy's badge was asleep at the desk, his long legs propped up, a hat pulled low over his eyes. Dev, tired and exasperated, took off his dripping, rain-soaked hat, deliberately shaking it off in the deputy's direction.

  The man awoke with a grumble. touching his. dampened shirt before he shoved back his hat to find out who had interfered with his nap. His mood did not improve when he found himself confronted by a man whose narrowed, irritated gaze boded trouble.

  "You want somethin', mister?"

  Dev's slicker continued to drip water on the floor, forming a large puddle where he was standing. "Marley ... where's he at?" he answered tersely, unwilling to share his information with a man who looked as incompetent as he did sleepy.

  "Sheriff ain't here. Now, if you wanta tell me what's troublin' ya ..."

  Dev sighed heavily in exasperation. "When you happen to see him next, tell your boss the stage to Helena was robbed and two women abducted. It was the Stanner gang and I came south looking for them. I'd bet my eyeteeth they're here in town." He slammed his hat on, adjusting the brim so that it shadowed his eyes. "If he's interested, he can get in touch with me at Chicago Joe's place .. name's Cantrel ." With that, he wheeled and stalked out, leaving a now awakened and wide-eyed deputy gaping after him.

  Chicago Joe's place was famous, the best saloon on the line, known for its selection of pretty dance girls in an area that held a huge population of miners and few women to entertain them. After long hours in the gold mines, a man could lose his troubles there, find comfort in a drink, a game of cards, a relaxing hour with one of Jo's talented ladies.

  Joe, of course, was the pretty Josephine Hensley, the owner of the place, a girl a little older than Dev, who had learned the ropes in Chicago and gone west to reap the benefits of keeping women-starved miners happy. Dev had known her for several years, respected her honesty, and valued her warmth.

  Now, as he knocked loudly at the back door of her establishment, a door used only by special customers, he found him
self greeted enthusiastically by Duke, the English

  "gentleman" who maintained order in the saloon and acted as Joe's bouncer. There were many rumors about his mysterious background, one that claimed he was the black sheep of a titled English family, but Joe had confided in Dev that she had met Duke in Chicago and knew for a fact that he'd come from a lower-class working family in Manchester, England.

  "I know you didn't ride all this way in the rain just for a little fun, Dev, old boy," Duke teased, then ordered a servant to see that Dev's horse was stabled, rubbed down and fed. Dev waited until he was shown upstairs to Joe's private suite of rooms to explain the reason he had galloped sixty miles in the pouring rain.

  "I see, I see, m'boy. Well, why don't you get into some dry clothes, then I'll see to it that Joe knows you're here. If anyone can tell you what's been happening here in town, it's she."

  Dev pulled a dry shirt and extra pair of pants from his saddlebags. When the door opened to admit the madam known as Chicago Joe, he was already dressed and settled comfortably by the fire. It felt damn good after the chilly rain that had soaked him for so many hours.

  Joe closed the door behind her, carefully balancing a tray that held a full bottle of brandy and two glasses. The smile she gave him was as bright as usual, though her eyes showed a concern for the trouble that had brought her friend out on a night like this.

  "Here now, lovey, this'll warm up your insides." Joe handed him the full glass of brandy she'd poured and bustled off to bring him a large, fluffy towel. "I'm gonna dry that wet mop of hair

  'fore. you catch your death! You just never mind me and start tellin' Jo what kinda trouble you got."

  Joe's maternal attitude, rarely seen in the business end of her establishment, brpught a smile to Dev's weary lips. It did feel good to sit here by the warmth of a strong-burning fire while the brandy brought new life to his chilled body. God, how good it would feel to crawl in bed and sleep for a couple of days straight! But he hardly had any time before he had to go out in the rain again.

  While Joe rubbed briskly at his hair with the towel, he told her the whole story, starting with the letter he'd received from Jared asking him to watch over Jennifer. "That's a hell of a way to repay his kindness, isn't it? He asks me to watch out for his daughter, and before I even get to her, she gets dragged off by a gang of thieves."

  Joe finished drying his hair and sank into the seat opposite him, pouring her own drink and downing it before she answered. "Can't say as I think it's your fault, Dev. What happened

  'fore you met this girl was somethin' you couldn'ta predicted!" Satisfied that she had reasoned away Dev's guilty feelings, she turned to the important business at hand. "Those hooligans of Stanner's was in here about -six weeks back. I had 'em all kicked out for cuttin'

  one of the girls. Those girls are worth a lot t'me; I won't stand for nobody roughin' 'em up!"

  Joe poured Dev and herself another glass, then rose and paced the room, returning to stand before him. "The Black Lily," she said thoughtfully, and then nodded with more assurance. "If they're here in town, them bastards are prob'ly holed up there. That yellow-haired bitch who runs the place don't care who she lets in the doors, front or back!"

  Dev started to rise, but Joe's hand clamped down on his shoulder, urging him to stay.

  "There's no tellin' what'll happen if you go pokin' around there alone. Let me get ..."

  Dev stood up with a wry grin, reading her thoughts well enough. "No, I am not waiting for you to gather some of the boys to help me. How's it going to look if I walk into her place with men who work for you?"

  Joe still protested, worried more about the fate of her, friend than the unknown girl he was seeking to help. "Well," she finally allowed grudgingly, "you keep a sharp eye out for drugged drinks an' those floozies she's got workin' there. That place has a bad reputation, Dev! They got all kinds a things for sale there I'd never allow done in my place."

  Dev grinned, hugging her close for a minute. "If I weren't so damned worried, Joe, I swear I'd take you t'bed this very second!" He pulled away, looking down at her worried expression, and added, "I promise I won't take drugged drinks or try any of those tricks you don't allow here!" With a wink, he released her and bent to retrieve his damp hat. "I'd be obliged if you'd lend me one of your horses, though. Mine's so worn, I don't think he'd make the trip down the street."

  "Course I will, honey. You know anything I got is yoursl" Her smile told him the statement included herself. In all the times Dev had visited her place and including the long talks they'd shared over breakfast, he'd never made a pass at her or suggested anything beyond a platonic relationship.

  Joe walked downstairs with him, warning Dev again to take care before she had a servant bring around one of the horses she kept in the small stables behind her house. "You let me know what's happenin' now, or I'll come bustin' in that bawdyhouse with an armed mob!"

  She was only half serious, but the shy kiss she planted on his cheek showed how much she was really worried.

  Dev thanked her and was about to say goodbye when she surprised him by hiking her skirt and revealing a long, wicked-looking knife sheathed in a scabbard fitted snugly to her silk-covered right thigh.

  "Here," she said, offering it to him carefully by its slim, ornately carved handle. "Stick this in your boot … it never hurts to have an ace in the hole!"

  Dev thought of turning it down but took it anyway, securing it toward the back of his right boot so that its shiny handle was hidden. Though he knew she was a tough and independent businesswoman, Joe had always been warm and gentle around him, and he'd never suspected she carried such an evil-looking weapon concealed beneath the heavy folds of her gowns.

  Finally he was on his way, riding down the street to the saloon known as The Black Lily. He'd met its owner several times, though he'd quit going there because he was sure the house dealt a bad hand in most of the games. The "lady" who presided over the saloon was a faded blonde in her fifties, though with the skillful use of make-up, she managed to look younger.

  Her husband, an Italian with a heavy, broken accent and rather shoddy evening wear, reigned over the dealers and dance girls.

  His name was Paolo Conti, but the miners had given him the nickname Pauly and it had stuck with him. Pauly was almost twenty years younger than his wife, a dark little man who fancied that he kept the girls in line because they were all at least half in love with him. Pauly greeted Dev at the door, welcoming him back to the establishment and ushering him to a place at the crowded bar. "It is a long time since we see you, no?" His wide, toothy grin was insincere, as phony as the cut-glass stickpin he liked to claim was a diamond. "I get you girl tonight to celebrate you return. Anything you like special? How 'bout two girl for price of one?" He leered and leaned close, a wave of cheap cologne radiating from his black coat. "I fix with Lil," he whispered as though they were fellow conspirators. Dev could barely control an urge to pick the little Italian up by his shiny lapels and cast him as far as he could. "Not now, Pauly, maybe later. It's Lil I wanted t'see. I got a proposition to talk over with her. Can you arrange for me t'see her in private?" He stepped back, his nose twitching with the man's scent.

  Pauly's eyebrows raised almost comically in surprise. "You got some idea to make lotsa money, eh? I go look for her-you stay, order drink on me."

  Dev watched him scuttle off toward the upstairs rooms where Lil kept an office and ordered his free drink, sniffing it suspiciously even though there was no reason for anyone to slip him a drug. He had barely taken a sip of the brandy before Pauly returned, his face split by his conspiratorial grin.

  "You come. Lil, she's always interested in propositions!" He winked as though he'd told a sly joke and told Dev to follow him. Pauly opened a door near the end of the bar to reveal a staircase. "Go," he directed, "up the stairs and down at the end a the hall. She's wait in the office. Lil, she say she call me if she need advice."

  Dev frowned as the Italian slipped back into the salo
on, leaving him alone in the semi-darkness of the hall. A single .wall lamp flickered there, casting dancing shadows on the walls. As he moved toward the office, he passed other doors on either side of him and several times heard shrill giggles from within.

  He paused before the door, brows knit together, wondering why he hadn't taken more time to think about this. He really had no plausible proposal to make Lil and should have just circulated among the girls on the floor, trying to pry some information out of one of them.

  Maybe he should'tell her he wanted to start a place similar to hers up north. The idea amused him and instead he knocked before he could change his mind.

  "Come in, Mr. Cantrell!"

  Then, it was too late to back out and he forced a smile to his face as he swung the door open and found Lil standing in front of her desk. She posed with unconscious seductiveness and Dev realized that at one time she must have been something to look at. Time seemed to have taken its toll, though Lil had not lost the manner of a woman used to flattery and admiration from the opposite sex.

  "Please, do come in! I've been anxiously awaiting your arrival."

  She smiled; and the last thing Dev remembered before something hard slammed viciously against the back of his head, was the flirtatious and almost ridiculous way the woman batted her fake eyelashes at him.

  "Very good, Jim," Lil Conti remarked as she surveyed the immobile form lying at her feet. "I'll see to it you have a suitable reward for this. You saved me a great deal of trouble; Now check the hall and make sure no one's out there. I want him taken to the storeroom and tied, securely!"

  "Yes, ma'am, always glad t'help you!" The man checked the hall as ordered and then began to drag Dev Cantrell out through the office door.

  "Oh, Jim," Lil called, and he stopped dragging his unconscious burden for a moment to raise his head. The light cast by one of the two lamps on Lil's desk caught the piece of metal pinned to his shirt, winking off the incised word, DEPUTY. "Jim, I want to know, if there are any other inquiries at the sheriff's office. Send some-one with a message if you can't get away."