by kps
Almost before he heard a soft rustle at the door, Dev had drawn and whirled around, revolver extended, hammer cocked. Lil stood at the door, wearing a long, black silk robe and holding a lamp aloft. "If I'd known you were up and visitin'," she claimed with a calm smile,
"I'd have dressed for the occasion!" Behind the pleasant mask her face had assumed, Lil's thoughts were a tangle of emotions. How had he escaped from the locked store-room? Had he sent Jenny's maid for the sheriff? How could she get him back into her office, where she had a derringer hidden on the desk? "You're not going to shoot down a defenseless lady, Devlan?' she asked, affecting horrified innocence.
Dev kept his gun pointed at her heart. "You're about as defenseless as a rattler, Lil ... and I don't see any lady around here at all. Where's the girl?"
"Come on back to my office and we'll discuss it. You look like you could use a drink, anyway, and I got a fine bottle of bourbon just waitin' for somebody who could appreciate it."
"Last time I walked in, all I got was a headache, Lit I suppose it's foolish of me to think that Pauly might be waiting behind the door?"
"Pauly?" Lil snorted a laugh. "He's been passed out for hours now ... besides, Pauly wouldn't be no threat to a man your size." Lil's gaze swept him in appraisal and she gave an earthy laugh from deep in her throat. "Hell, no, Cantrell! You could take on ten Paulys and still not come up with a scratch. Come on, son ... I'm gettin' damned cold standin' out here." She turned and took a step in the direction of the office. "Hold it, right there," Dev ordered, corning forward until he stood next to her. He felt better having the gun up to her back in case Pauly was armed and waiting. "Just take it slow and easy, Lit" Lil obeyed the order but as she walked forward, clucked, "There just ain't any trust in the world no more, no trust at all!"
Inside the office there were no lamps lighted, and the one Lil placed on the desk after Dev had carefully checked the room for any surprises cast a dim glow over the plush surroundings. Beyond a door to the right that led to her bedroom suite, Dev could clearly hear the sounds of Pauly's loud, intermittent snoring.
Lil turned and frowned and with a gesture of her head motioned to the door. "Told you he was out. The little fool got into my bar liquor last night. That rot gut'll put anybody under the table! Now if you want a good drink ..."
"All I want is to know where the Bryant girl is. Go ahead and have one-if it helps jog your memory any."
Lil moved to the sideboard and opened the cabinet, pulling out a nearly full bottle of amber-colored liquor. "My memory's fine, Cantrell," she said finally, bringing the shot glass of whisky she'd poured over to the front of the desk. Dev leaned casually against the hall door, but she was quite aware that he could move with lightning speed if he was alarmed in some way. "The girl isn't here any more. I won't tell you where I sent her, but here," she reached down to the desk and picked up a picture frame and tossed it to Dev, "this is the reason I got her."
Dev kept a wary eye on Lil but glanced at the frame. His brows pulled together as he wondered over the reason she'd have an old newspaper clipping of one of Mariah and Jared's visits. The picture was a bit blurry but there was no doubt it was Mariah smiling back at him, with Jared's arm around her shoulders.
"That's my kid you're lookin' at, the fancy-ass Countess from London." When Dev's gaze told her he doubted the claim, she sniffed somewhat indignantly and further explained, "Yeah, it's true enough. She's a half-breed, an' I was only sixteen when I had her. My Ma took her off my hands and I thought that was the last I'd see of the brat. Unfortunately she showed up about nineteen years later and broke up a nice, cozy romance between me and ... and Jared Bryant."
The bitterness in her voice was as fresh as if Mariah had just taken Jared away from her.
"And you think you're getting revenge against your own daughter by hitting out at her daughter."
"I don't think so ... I had my revenge already. 'Fore she left here in the company of a couple of my men, Beau Stanner had her, paid pretty high for her, too. And where that prissy little English bitch is gain', she'll find a lot more -men willin' to put out cash for what he got!"
Then everything happened so fast that Dev had time only later to wonder where the pearl-handled derringer she'd pulled on him had come from. When he'd cursed and called her a bitch the small handgun had come up, and she was laughing as she pulled the trigger. Maybe she wasn't a good shot, maybe the cackling laughter threw off her aim, but as the bullet creased his ribs with a streak of hot, searing pain, he fired and the blast from the forty-five's barrel smacked into her belly, knocking her body back-across the desk.
The lamp crashed onto the floor, the flames spreading quickly wherever the kerosene had splashed, catching the rug and the red velvet upholstery of several nearby chairs. Smoke was filling the room, even as Dev gathered the silk bodice of Lil's robe and jerked her up. She was near death from the gut shot, beyond pain as she dangled like a broken doll. "Where is she?"
Dev shouted, choking from the acrid white smoke.
"... ne ... ver find ... her!" Lil gasped with her last breath, and then the gurgling sound in her throat told him it was useless to ask her again. He dropped her and waved the smoke out of his eyes, trying to see if both exits were already blocked by the flames. The door to the bedroom opened and a groggy, hung-over Pauly stumbled into the room, shielding his face as a wall of scorching flame flared up.
There was just enough room for Dev to get to Pauly. He kicked one of the burning chairs away from the wall and in another second had the choking, squealing man by the scruff of his nightshirt and dragged him past the licking flames to the outside door. Pauly was shoved out into the bright morning sunlight, and when he hesitated on the landing, a brutal kick sent his short, thin body tumbling head over heels down the flight of wooden steps.
There was a reception committee waiting for him as he bounced off the last step and landed in a heap of tangled, smoke-smudged limbs. Behind him, with a cold and grim expression, came Dev Cantrell. Pauly looked up at him and saw his own death reflected in the man's steady glare, then scrambled toward the safety of a growing crowd that included the sheriff, his deputy, and Chicago Joe and her bouncer. The little Spanish girl who'd been abducted with Jennifer Bryant stood off to one side, sobbing against the shoulder of one of Josephine's older girls.
White and gray smoke was now pouring out of the office, and the rest of the building was catching, its dry timber and furnishings feeding the spreading inferno. Down the street a bell was ringing, summoning the volunteer fire department to its duty. Dev had almost forgotten that he'd been shot. He wasn't aware of the blood soaking the right side of his shirt or anything but a dull burning ache as he shrugged off Joe's hand and reached out for Pauly.
As Pauly tried to scramble away, Dev'shand twisted the cotton nightshirt at his throat until he was choking, his eyes bulging, and he croaked out a plea for mercy.
Dev let him dangle for a minute as he faced the sheriff and. told him of his deputy's connection with Lil, that Lil was dead, and that the girl he'd come after was gone. When the deputy backed away at the edge of the crowd, one of the ·men who'd overheard the claim drew his revolver and held it against Deputy Akers's spine. "And this ... weasel," Dev added, giving Pauly a shake, "is going to tell me where the young lady was taken. Aren't you, Pauly?
Lil's already dead. Unless you want to join her right now, you'd best tell me."
When the strangling pressure around his throat was eased a little, all Pauly could do was cough and choke, managing to gasp in a hoarse voice, "I don' know nothin'! Lil, she never tell Pauly what she plans to do----l swear it!" He squealed as the material was tightened again.
Out of the crowd, a woman's voice called him a liar, and the watchers made a pathway for Mavis to move to the front. "He was there, last night, when Lil had two of her men tie up the Bryant girl and one other of the girls who'd been giving her trouble. They left about ten hours ago, headed for Denver." Now that she no longer had to fear Lil, Mavis
was glad to help Dev find Jenny.
Two hours later Dev sat on the bed of one of Chicago Joe's rooms, watching the doctor wind bandages around his chest. He'd refused the pain pill the doctor'd tried to get him to take; it wouldn't do to have his head fogged by any drug when he rode out of Helena for Denver in an hour.
Across the room Joe frowned at the stubborn attitude her friend had taken. He'd inhaled a lot of smoke, burned his hands when he'd saved Pauly's worthless hide, and now wanted to ride off on a long, tiring trip with only a tight wrapping of bandages around his cracked rib.
"Dev, you won't do this girl any good if you end up fallin' off your mount somewhere along the trail! Doc, you tell him-Dev's in no shape to go anywhere. He'll get him-self killed in his condition!"
"A man's got to do what's he's got to do, Joe," Doc Simmons replied, tearing the gauze bandages down the middle of one strip to tie them off. "Sometimes the kind of determination Cantrell's got is the best medicine around, better than doctoring. But keep that under your wig, Joe, I don't need to lose any business!"
Joe sighed. If Dev was going to be obstinate, the only thing she could do was try to help him.
"I got a friend on the Denver line, Dev. Runs a house . . a respectable place, not like this fella, Evers. You can stay there, and Bella will give you any help you need. We goback to old times together, she's got a good heart, Bella does. You'd just damned well better take care of yourself or ..."
Dev grinned, then coughed from the smoke damage to his lungs. "Or what, Joe?" he asked hoarsely.
"Or you'll have me to answer to, that's what, Devlan Cantrell!" She tried to look threatening, but ended up laughing at the effort. A knock sounded at. the door and a moment later Duke entered, suavely stroking his mustache as he offered an interesting tidbit of information he'd managed to glean from the town's gossip mill, the local dry goods store.
"It seems that right after the fire started, a gentleman made a quiet exit out of town, heading for parts unknown. A man said to bear a striking resemblance to the outlaw Starmer." Duke grinned, proud of his news. He glanced at the guns Dev had taken from his belt and laid on the bed, then raised one elegant brow. "Apparently he'd had a run-in with some fellow who'd bested him. The man who recognized Starmer said he was wearing an empty holster."
Dev looked down at the fancy pair of guns and realized belatedly that he'd had a chance to finish off the man who'd carried out Lil's orders for the kidnapping. "Embarrassing thing, losing your guns like that. Sounds like Stanner's getting careless."· If the outlaw was headed south, maybe he'd catch up with him. The possibility brought a gleam of pleasure to Dey's narrowed eyes, and as he flexed his blistered hands, Dey smiled, an expression that held no amusement at all.
Six
While the red-headed whore, Lady Alice, smiled at the red-faced, gangly youth who was trying to impress her by plying her with the cheap white wine Billy Evers had re-labeled champagne, her gaze flickered past him to the tall, quiet stranger who'd arrived almost twenty minutes ago. Her mouth twitched with irritation, and to mask it, she raised her glass and drank, easily evading the boy's fumbling attempts to fondle her large breasts.
That sly tart, Susie, had pounced on the only good-looking customer to come in for weeks now, and if Billy hadn't been sitting back in the corner with his usual glass of whisky, Alice would have started in against the slut-and won. But Billy was there, and he was mean whenever there was a squabble, too mean to risk getting him riled. Still, Alice thought with an amused smirk, she had the consolation of watching Susie's frustrated attempts to lure the man upstairs. He seemed interested in only one thing -watching the new girl.
Her crisp, near-perfect speech had prompted Bill to dub the girl English Annie. Alice hadn't tried to be friendly, and Annie had kept to herself, giving the impression she thought she was too good for Evers's house. Hadn't they all thought that at one time, though! Annie would get used to it-she'd have to if she wanted Bill to layoff using the whip against her smooth, white flesh.
Jenny wasn't aware that she was the object of such intense scrutiny. She had blanked out the sight of the tawdry, cheaply decorated room, the sounds of lewd, inviting laughter, and the business that was being transacted in the bordello parlor. One of the customers was playing a popular melody on the upright piano in the far corner, and one of the girls was giving her bawdy version in a wavering, off-key voice. A glass of "champagne" rested lightly in Jenny's fingers, and she sipped it occasionally, hoping it would further dull her senses.
When the settee creaked protestingly under the weight of the corpulent, sweating hulk who dropped down beside her, Jenny did not look up. She was afraid to, afraid of the greedy unconcealed lust she would see in his eyes. It was a look common to all the men who paid Evers for the use of her body. Tall or short, thin or fat, young and old alike, they resented
'having to pay for pleasure; and more often than not, it was the girls who bore the brunt of their resentment.
Now the man leaned close, and her nostrils flared as his fetid breath washed over her, as he
"complimented" her beauty, wondering aloud if she wouldn't like him to warm her up a little. His pudgy hand, damp with sweat, slipped onto her leg, squeezing her knee through the thin covering of the red satin wrapper she wore, sliding it back to test the texture of her black silk stockings.
Jenny closed her eyes with a shudder, tense under the trespassing hand of a strange man.
Only the knowledge that Evers was watching her kept her from slapping the man away and bolting from the room. Suddenly the man grabbed her, pinning her body against the back of the settee. With one arm around her shoulders, he pawed at her breasts, already exposed and vulnerable to the action by the half-cupped bodice of a tightly cinched black lace corset. His fingers closed cruelly on her soft flesh, grasping for a hold as his mouth came down wetly against her skin. Reflexively, without considering the consequences of the defense, Jenny struck at him, struggling to get away. His hair was dripping with the spilled wine; but the rutting animal seemed not to notice, and Jenny raised the glass high, desperately bringing it down against the side of his head. The glass splintered, and she was free. She scarcely noticed the pain of a sliced finger as she pushed at him and scrambled away, running for the safety of the hall. She had her foot on the first step of the stairs when Evers caught her. One of his hands caught the back of her head, his fingers grasping a handful of curls and the other closed over her wrist, yanking her backwards. Jenny found herself sprawled on her knees on the landing, one arm stretched high as Evers drew back his palm and swung. Her scream was cut off as his hand slammed across her mouth, rocking her body with the force of the blow. Evers had a smile on his thin, hawk-nosed face, and as he drew back to hit Jenny again, a man's voice stilled the movement. "I wouldn't do that again."
The calm command was underlaid by a steely, unspoken threat.
Just out of the pure pleasure it afforded him, Evers jerked the girl's arm and was rewarded by a sob, then turned to see who had dared to interfere. It was the tall, quiet man who'd been watching Jenny Bryant since he'd arrived. "And why shouldn't I, mister, eh? This is a whorehouse, not an orphange. I let one of these bitches get away with actin' up, they'll all be tryin' it."
The stranger smiled and raised the brim of his hat with a flick of his thumb as he lounged against the parlor door frame. No amusement gleamed in the brown, gold-flecked eyes that challenged Evers to hit the girl again. Like a lean, well-conditioned animal, he seemed ready to pounce at the slightest provocation "Twenty bucks says you shouldn't, Evers. Like you said, you're in business." He dug in the breast pocket of his blue checked shirt and then tossed a-coin, a coin that glinted as hard and golden as his eyes, at the whoremaster. "Now, if you feel like havin' yourself a little fun, don't let me get in your way, but I ain't payin' for a marked-up girl."
Evers had caught the gold piece and quickly examined it, his sharp gaze verifying its worth.
He'd been passed counterfeit in the past and
learned by his mistakes. With a negligent shove, he released Jenny's arm and turned his back, missing the flare of anger in the stranger's eyes. Pocketing the money he went behind a desk that 'sat in the staircase alcove, reached into the top drawer, and pulled forth a key, then looked up with a sneer as he tossed it to the man." You just bought English Annie's services for the night, mister. She's a good-looker, but there ain't no whore I ever seen worth that much gold!"
"Well ... that's my worry, now, ain't it?"
Evers shrugged, then started to laugh as he headed. for the parlor. "Sure is, now I got my money. Just see you get your money's worth … I like my customers satisfied when they leave."
Bought and paid for again. Jenny wiped at the smear of blood on her swelling lip, determined not to cry. Tears didn't make a bit of difference to Evers; in fact, he thrived on bringing his girls to tears, How many men did this one make this week? What did it matter, anyway? She still hadn't looked at the man who'd saved her, who'd paid an unheard-of price to buy her. Whatever pleasure he cared to extract from her body's use, there would be no one to deny him, no one to defend her. She almost wished ... almost, that Evers hadn't weaned her off of the drug. Then, at least, everything would have been a blur, and her senses would not be so offended by the degradation.
A pair of boots appeared before her and Jenny's mouth tightened. Would she ever become used to this-to letting a strange man accompany her upstairs and use her body? She looked up, hatred battling with fleeting rebellion in her eyes. This one was at least good-looking, blond and clean and ... somehow oddly familiar. He reached down and gently grasped her hand, pulling her to her feet. It briefly entered her head to wonder why a man so young and handsome had to buy a woman's feigned response, but it really didn't matter what his reasons were. He was studying her, appraising her features just as he would a fine piece of horseflesh he'd just bought.