The Dawn of Fury

by Compton, Ralph

  “Everybody goes into the parlor,” he said. “Actually, there are two parlors. The others will go into the second. You’ll wait in the first until I talk to Stumberg. Stay there. Don’t go wandering around.”

  Apparently having been there before, the other guests went immediately into the second of the two parlors. Nathan remained in the first, watching as Silver continued through the second and up an elegant spiral staircase. The two parlors seemed identical in furnishings, with elegant rose drapes matching a gray, rose-patterened carpet. Nathan had never seen anything like it, and he remained standing, reluctant to sit on the elegant mahogany furniture. He eyed the wide, white-railed spiral stairway at the end of the second parlor and so got his first look at one of Stumberg’s “pretty girls.”

  She didn’t look a day over eighteen. She came down the spiral stairs, obviously to escort the newly arrived patrons. Her blonde hair was tied with a red ribbon, her slippers were a matching red, and her waist-length jacket was red, embroidered with gold. The jacket was open down the front, and she wore absolutely nothing else. Barnabas McQueen hadn’t exaggerated.11

  The practically naked girl beckoned to the goggle-eyed men, and they all followed her eagerly up the stairs. Nathan suspected her motions—and whatever might take place later—had been devised to take a man’s mind off his gambling, along with the heavy losses he was likely to suffer. Nathan had grown tired of waiting when Silver returned.

  “Come on,” said Silver. “I built you up as much as I could. He knows you’re on Gavin’s list for having sided me. It’s up to you to convince him he needs you.”

  Nathan followed Silver through the second parlor and up the long spiral stairs. Silver paused before a door and knocked.

  “All right,” said a voice from within.

  “You’re on your own,” Silver said. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  Not knowing what to expect, Nathan turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped into the room. Its furnishings were as elegant as any of those in the downstairs parlors. Stumberg sat behind a mahogany desk the length of a Conestoga wagon, chewing an unlit cigar. He had lost some hair in the front, and what remained was graying. In the glow from hanging, brass-shaded lamps, diamonds glittered from rings on both his beefy hands. His frock coat was black, and beneath it he wore a boiled white shirt with ruffles at the front and at the cuffs. His black string tie lay on the desk. He had jowls that reminded Nathan of a hog, and his deep brown eyes were hard, unblinking. While both his hands were on the desktop, he looked like the kind who would have a derringer up his sleeve or a Colt in his lap. There were no chairs before the desk, but several to either side, along the walls. A visitor was not permitted to face Stumberg head-on.

  “There’s chairs,” Stumberg growled. “Set.”

  “Nobody tells me when to sit, or where,” said Nathan. He positioned himself directly before Stumberg, his cold blue eyes boring into the gambler’s.

  Stumberg laughed. “Ex-Reb, mean as hell, bowed but unbeaten. Are you as quick with a pistol as you are with your tongue?”

  Stumberg never saw Nathan’s right hand move. In less than a heartbeat the gambler found himself looking into the cold, deadly bore of a cocked Colt revolver. Stumberg thought of the derringer up his right sleeve, and a chill swept over him. Nathan Stone could have shot him dead three times before he could have gotten the sleeve gun into play. Having made his point, Nathan returned the Colt to its holster. Hooking his thumbs in his pistol belt, he remained where he was, his eyes on Stumberg. In a totally different tone of voice the gambler spoke.

  “Silver has told me some interesting things about you, Stone. He seems to think you might fit into my ... ah ... organization. What do you think?”

  “I think I’d like to know more about your . . . ah ... organization,” Nathan said, “and then I will decide whether or not I fit into it.”

  Again Stumberg laughed, an unpleasant sound. From a coat pocket he withdrew a match, popped it aflame with his thumbnail, and lighted the cigar. Through a cloud of smoke, he fixed his hard eyes on Nathan for a moment before he said anything.

  “I’m a gambler, Stone. As much a gambler as any of the suckers who can’t wait to get to my tables. The difference is, I gamble on men. When I place my bets on you—if I do—then I don’t expect to lose. My games are honest, and any man caught slick dealing will regret it. Can you deal faro?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” said Stumberg. “As Silver told you, the Queen of Diamonds makes a weekly run from here to St. Louis. She leaves on Sunday afternoon, lays over a night in St. Louis, and returns here the following Saturday. I want you aboard, starting this Sunday. That’s tomorrow. That is, if you find the proposition agreeable. You will be paid two hundred dollars a month, and when you’re in town, your room and board will be provided. Have you any questions as to what I’m expecting of you?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said. “I get the feeling you’re expecting more of me than just dealing faro on a steamboat. Why don’t you tell me the rest of it?”

  “I need a man who thinks on his feet, is quick with a gun, and who isn’t afraid to use it when he must. You will deal some faro on the way to St. Louis, provided that some of my homebound guests still have money. But on the return run to New Orleans, you will prowl the decks, heading off trouble. Once a month, I’ll be going to St. Louis with you, and while we are at the landing there, you are not to leave the Queen at any time, for any reason. Other times, the night and the town are yours. Send Silver back up here, and you wait for him downstairs.”

  Nathan stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. He found Silver in the second parlor, standing at the foot of the stairs.

  “He wants you up there,” said Nathan. “I passed muster.”

  Silver was gone only a few minutes, and when he returned, Nathan looked at him questioningly.

  “When you’re in town,” Silver said, “you’ll be bunking with me at the St. Charles. There’s room enough for the hotel to set up another bed, and I’ll get you a key. There won’t be a coach to town until eleven, so we’ll be here awhile. Do you want to visit the gaming rooms and look at Stumberg’s pretty girls?”

  “I’ve seen one,” said Nathan. “Are the others that much different?”

  “Not that I could see,” Silver said. “The cook’s already gone, but there’ll be food and coffee in the kitchen. Let’s go there.”

  Like the rest of Stumberg’s place, the kitchen was more than adequate. The stove was still hot, and two large blue granite coffeepots sat directly over the firebox. The coffee was black and steaming. There was a large pot of boiled potatoes and a pan with half a haunch of roast beef. A serving tray on the table held three loaves of sliced bread.

  “Let’s eat,” said Silver. “It’s been five hours since supper.”

  They helped themselves to coffee, roast beef, and potatoes, taking chairs at the table.

  “What did he tell you?” Nathan asked. “Or am I not supposed to know?”

  “Not a damn thing,” said Silver, “except that I’m to get you a room key and have the hotel set up a bed for you. I reckon anything you tell me will be at your own risk, since he obviously doesn’t want me to know.”

  “Oh, hell,” Nathan said, “How can you not know, with us sharing a room? He wants a man who can think on his feet, is quick with a gun, and isn’t afraid to use it. I’m to deal faro on the Queen as she takes the gamblers home to St. Louis. That is, if they have any money left. On the return runs to New Orleans I’m to prowl the decks, heading off trouble.”

  “By God,” said Silver, “that’s been my job, except when Stumberg goes to St. Louis. On those runs I’ve never been allowed to go.”

  “I hate telling you this,” Nathan said, “but I’ll be going on those runs, but I’m not allowed to go ashore at any time the Queen’s at the landing in St. Louis.”

  “And I’ll be cooling my heels here at the hotel,” said Silver bitterly. “I’m not sure I really want to know, but
how much is he paying you?”

  “Two hundred,” Nathan said. “You know what he’s doing, don’t you?”

  “Except for the money, he’s playing one of us against the other,” said Silver. “It’s his quaint way of telling us he doesn’t trust either of us completely. When Stumberg makes the run to St. Louis, I’m not allowed on the boat. You’re allowed to go, but you’re not allowed ashore.”

  “Something’s taking place in St. Louis that can’t stand the light of day,” Nathan said. “I’ll bet my month’s pay against yours that it involves those naked women Stumberg is using in these gambling houses.”

  “No bet,” said Silver, “and if that kind of talk gets back to Stumberg, you may be gambling more than a month’s pay, my friend.”

  Chapter 14

  By the time Sunday arrived, Nathan had his own bed and room key, but was thoroughly sick of the St. Charles hotel and the inactivity. There had been no word from Stumberg, and Silver prepared for the run to St. Louis as usual.

  “Until Stumberg says different,” Silver said, “I’ll be making the run to St. Louis with you. Except for Stumberg’s once-a-month runs, of course.”

  Despite the fact that the Queen of Diamonds wouldn’t back away from the landing until three o’clock, Nathan and Silver arrived a little after one. A man on the main deck lowered the gangplank, raising it immediately after Nathan and Silver were aboard.

  “There’s two bunks in my usual cabin,” said Silver. “Unless somebody has other ideas, you can bunk there.”

  After storing their meager belongings, Silver took Nathan on a tour of the sternwheeler. It was much larger than Nathan had expected, for he’d never been on a steamboat. The main deck looked like a large open shed, and in the center of it—forward—was the housing for the boilers and mighty engines. Below deck, secured by hatches, was another deck that Silver avoided.

  “Most of the lower deck’s closed off,” he said by way of explanation. “The rest of it’s taken up with a couple dozen cords of firewood used to feed the fireboxes under the boilers.”12

  The second deck, above the fireboxes and boilers, boasted the steamboat’s fanciest accommodations. There was a long, central lounge and saloon, three-quarters surrounded by state rooms. The rearmost fourth of this deck, separated from the forepart by folding doors, was the kitchen. The enormous lounge was not only a saloon, complete with gaming tables and a roulette wheel, but a dining room as well. A third deck—the roof of the cabin deck—was the hurricane deck, so named because it had no covering, except in the central part forward. Here was the “Texas,” which included cabins for the ship’s officers, the pilots, and the many waiters needed to staff the dining room. Atop the Texas was the pilothouse, with many windows, from which the pilot could see in every direction. Just in front of the Texas, a pair of lofty flaring crowned stacks spewed columns of woodsmoke heavenward.13

  “God,” said Nathan, “how many men does it take to operate this thing?”

  “Twenty-seven, I believe,” Silver replied, “including the captain. Two pilots take turns at the wheel and there are eight different firemen who work in shifts of four. There’s the cook and his helper, a dozen waiters who serve the meals, and of course, two girls who cater to the gamblers.”

  “That’s a lot of waiters.” said Nathan. “Why so many?”

  “There are times,” Silver replied, “when there’s not enough. You saw the lounge and saloon. It’s empty now, but it’s usually full when we pull out of St. Louis. Like I said, the girls devote their time to the gamblers. The waiters who serve the meals also serve drinks. Damn convenient for everybody, since the lounge and saloon is also the dining room.”

  “A floating saloon and gambling hall,” said Nathan. “It cost a pile, I reckon.”

  “A specially built steamboat can cost anywhere from twenty thousand up to a quarter of a million,” said Silver. “Just another means of showing all the peons how powerful Señor Stumberg really is.”

  “This is nothing like an ordinary steamboat, then.”

  “The upper deck and the lower deck are almost entirely different,” Silver said. “A conventional boat of this size would have the upper deck divided into fourths. There would be a lounge for men, another for women, a small saloon with poker tables, and a kitchen. During meals, partitions would be removed, converting the lounges into a single dining room. A regular steamboat makes good use of the lower deck. The part beyond what’s needed for the boilers, fireboxes, and firewood is devoted to wagons, mules, horses, cows, or people needing passage who can’t afford anything better. They sleep in their wagons or on the deck. But this one, being a custom-built steamboat, has part of that lower deck closed off. There’s a series of cabins, all of them fitted with special locks.”

  “That’s curious,” said Nathan. “With the officers, pilots, and waiters having quarters on the hurricane deck, why is there a need for more cabins on the lower deck? and why the special locks?”

  “In either case,” Silver replied, “I have no idea, and since I’m a hell of a lot smarter than I look, I’m not about to ask.”

  Nathan said no more, but he was becoming increasingly certain that Byron Silver knew or suspected more than he was willing to divulge. Half an hour before the Queen of Diamonds was scheduled to depart, three Concords, each with teams of matched bays, drew up at the landing. The same crewman who had lowered the gangplank for Nathan and Silver now lowered it for the occupants from the coaches. There were eighteen passengers in all, two of which were women. They, of course, were the “pretty girls” who would entertain the men.

  “Tarnation,” said Nathan, “that many men come from St. Louis to lose their money at Stumberg’s tables?”

  “That’s a light turnout,” Silver said. “Usually there’s three times as many. Besides, a pair of those—Stevens and Harkness—are Stumberg’s housemen.”

  “If this is a light turnout,” said Nathan, “then three times this many is more than forty. Two housemen to accommodate forty gamblers on the ride back to New Orleans?”

  “Either man can deal anything from faro to stud poker,” Silver said, “and either of the girls can operate the roulette wheel, if need be. You can, as Stumberg said, deal faro on the run to St. Louis. As for gambling on the boat, it’s more a diversion than anything else. Stumberg likes to divide his passengers among all his gambling houses, and he doesn’t like for them to be broke when they arrive. It’s bad for morale.”

  “I reckon it helps morale considerable,” said Nathan, “making good use of this time on the river. The house losing some pesos to the visiting gamblers fattens them up for the kill, once they reach New Orleans.”

  “If I were you,” Silver replied quietly, “I’d not spend too much of my time speculating on Stumberg’s motives. At least, not out loud.”

  Nathan said nothing for a moment, and when he spoke again, he changed the subject.

  “How far is it to St. Louis, and how long will we be on the river?”

  “Near seven hundred miles,” said Silver. “We’ll arrive sometime late Wednesday afternoon, lay over one night and return to New Orleans. We’ll take on wood at Vicksburg, Memphis, and Cairo, Illinois.”

  With two shrill blasts from her whistle and woodsmoke boiling from twin stacks, the Queen of Diamonds departed on schedule. Nathan and Silver stood at the rail as the Queen swung away from the landing.

  “Nobody out here but us,” Nathan said. “Where is all that bunch?”

  “The gamblers are in their cabins licking their wounds,” said Silver. “The gambling—if there is any—won’t get under way until after supper. The cook and his helper are French, and you can’t understand a damn thing they say, but they flat know how to turn out the grub.”

  “Do we eat with the crew or with the passengers?”

  “With the passengers,” Silver said. “They have to get used to us.”

  Supper was announced at five bells, and the passengers who had visited Stumberg’s gambling houses were a moros
e and unenthusiastic bunch. They all looked, Nathan thought, as though they had learned the truth of the old adage that the odds always favor the house. The two house dealers ate alone, while the women chose not to eat at all.

  “I’d say there won’t be much gambling between here and St. Louis,” said Nathan. “They’re all too busy licking their wounds.”

  “That’s usually the way of it after a week at the gambling tables,” Silver replied. “We’ll get plenty of shut-eye.”

  “We don’t know that some of them won’t be in here after some hair of the dog that bit them,” said Nathan. “We can’t just hibernate in our cabin, can we?”

  “Stevens and Harkness will be here in the lounge,” Silver said, “and they can probably provide any needed action. If it becomes heavy enough, they’ll pound on our door.”

  “No women, either, I reckon,” said Nathan.

  “Not usually,” Silver said. “Trinity and Shekela are two of Stumberg’s most dependable girls, and they’re along mostly to excite the new crop of gamblers on their way to New Orleans.”

  “They’re the most dependable,” said Nathan, “meaning there are some who might jump ship if they got the chance.”

  “You said that,” Silver replied. “I didn’t.”

  Nathan said nothing, drawing his own conclusions. As Silver had predicted, Trinity and Shekela were absent from the lounge, as were all the gamblers on their way back to St. Louis. House gamblers Stevens and Harkness sat with hats tipped over their eyes, apparently resolved to a long evening of doing absolutely nothing. Nathan and Silver returned to their cabin.

  “At first,” said Nathan, “it seemed like two hundred a month was too much to pay a man for settin’ on his hunkers and doing nothing. Now, damn it, I’m startin’ to wonder if it’s enough.”

  Silver laughed. “It’s always dull on the way to St. Louis, but you’ll see some action when we pick up a new crop of gamblers and head south to New Orleans.”

  For the lack of anything better to do, Nathan and Silver shed their boots and hats and tried to sleep. But for Nathan Stone, sleep was long in coming. It seemed the throb of the engines and the throbbing of his head were one and the same. His was a long, restless night, and he was thankful when at last he could see the graying of the dawn through the single porthole. The call to breakfast came at seven bells, and Nathan thought the despondent gamblers looked as washed out as he felt. There was one difference, though. When he and Silver chose a table, they were joined by the house gamblers, Stevens and Harkness, and eventually, by the saloon girls, Shekela and Trinity. The latter was discreetly dressed, smiling, and a far cry from the nearly naked girl Nathan had seen at Stumberg’s gambling house. Stevens and Harkness were dressed in almost identical pin-striped suits, and looked exactly like what they were. Silver spoke to the four with easy familiarity, introducing Nathan. It was to Nathan that Harkness spoke.