The soft padding of footsteps on the plank floors drew the attention of both men. A slightly plump but pretty young woman with tousled dark hair, wearing nothing more than a gauzy, thin nightdress, sashayed across the room and sat on Victorio Sanchez’s lap.
“Good morning, my angel,” Sanchez greeted her.
She gave a coy grin before taking the whiskey bottle, refilling his shot glass, and downing it herself in a single swallow.
“If you will excuse us, my friend Lope…” Sanchez flashed that yellow smile again. “Four years in prison, it was a very long time.”
Lope stood, doffed his sombrero, and said, “Señorita.” He walked to the door and paused. “Patience, Victorio. I’ll bring you more news of Emmett Strong very soon.”
Sanchez was already kissing on the girl’s neck.
With a scoff, Lope thought, Hombre’s got no patience. Never has.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The rain was coming down in sheets—a real frog choker. Though it was only now midafternoon, it was as dark as dusk. Another flash of lightning ripped the sky, followed immediately by a wall-rattling clap of thunder. Li jumped involuntarily. Emmett, already clutching her in his arms, squeezed her closer and began to laugh. She laughed, too.
“I’m just not used to thunderstorms like this one,” she said.
“I like it. Gives me an excuse to hold you tight.”
Her face being so close to his, he felt her grin. “You don’t need an excuse,” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Staying in somebody else’s house like this, it somehow seems a bit rude or…embarrassing…to go traipsing off to the bedroom to spoon for a while in the middle of the day.”
She pushed away so she could see his eyes. “You don’t seem so shy about spooning right now.” She grinned.
“Yeah, well, in a storm like this, everybody else has taken refuge where they feel safest. Mama Galvez is sitting at the kitchen table making tamales. She’ll be there for hours. Juanito’s pa is over at the mercantile. No customers, I’ll bet. Just him and the ledgers.”
She smiled. The torrential rain rumbled away on the rafters.
Just as she leaned in to kiss him, there was a brisk knock on the guest room door.
Imitating Li’s response to the last crack of thunder, Emmett jumped.
She scowled at him and poked his ribs but couldn’t keep from laughing at his mock fear.
“Sí?” Emmett said aloud. “What is it?”
Mama Galvez’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. “You have a guest, Emmett. It’s your Texas Ranger amigo, Señor VanDorn.”
“Gracias. Coming right away.”
Li raised her eyebrows.
“He’s a good friend,” Emmett said. “Won’t judge you.” After stealing another quick yet amorous kiss, he added, “He’ll probably be jealous as all get-out.”
With flushed cheeks, she smiled as she stood and straightened her outfit. Being that they had been spending the day relaxing at the Galvez home, she was wearing the kind of clothes she had often worn when working at her parents’ restaurant back in Virginia City’s Chinatown—slim-fitting boy’s trousers and a bib-front shirt. She pulled on her boots and turned to the mirror to check her hair, held up on one side with a decorative Chinese hairpin and falling loose to her shoulder on the other side. “I’m ready,” she said.
Emmett slipped his brown-striped vest back on but didn’t bother to button it. Once he’d put on his boots, he opened the door and ushered Li out with his hand in the small of her back.
When the couple reached the sitting room, they found Mama Galvez taking away Jack VanDorn’s dripping rain slicker and pinch-crowned hat.
VanDorn mopped back his salt-and-pepper hair and used his knuckle to wipe some of the moisture from his bushy mustache.
“What in tarnation brings you out in weather like this, Jack VanDorn?” Emmett asked, offering a handshake.
VanDorn chuckled, glanced at Li, and answered. “It’s my new job—Bexar County roof inspector. You got any leaks?”
Emmett laughed then turned to his wife. “Li, I’d like you to meet a man I’d ride the river with any day of the week—Mr. Jack VanDorn.” And with his arm around Li’s shoulders, he said to his guest, “Jack, this is my wife, Li.”
The expression on VanDorn’s face was genuine. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He smiled broadly as he spoke to Emmett. “How is it you always attract the truly pretty ones, pardner? Can’t be ’cause you’re so pretty your own self.”
Mama Galvez, all of five feet tall, returned with a tray of coffee mugs. “Please, sit,” she said, with a polite smile.
“Speaking of pretty ones”—Emmett nudged VanDorn—“if she wasn’t already taken, you could call on Mama Galvez.”
Glaring at Emmett, Mama Galvez said, “Cabrón.” Outlaw.
Emmett grinned and motioned to a cluster of mission chairs.
“Gracias, Señora Galvez.” VanDorn lifted a mug from the tray. “Sure smells good in here.”
“That’s her best-in-the-world tamales you smell,” Emmett said, savoring the pleasant aroma of corn and seasoned pork. His mouth watered.
“Don’t listen to this one.” Mama Galvez swatted Emmett’s arm before retreating to the kitchen.
“Nothin’ like a hot oven and the aroma of fine food to keep a hurricane like this one at bay.” VanDorn tossed a nod toward the window.
Emmett glanced that way. “I’m flattered that you braved such a storm just to come pay us a visit.”
VanDorn blew on his coffee. “Where’s that brother-in-law of yours?”
Pointing a thumb, Emmett said, “Juanito and a new friend of ours are going into the saloon business together. They’re buying what used to be a drugstore over on Fourth Street. Supposed to be taking care of the bill of sale right now…if the place isn’t flooded.”
“That new friend of yours—English fella?”
“That’s right. How’d you know?” It was only then that Emmett began to experience a vague unease.
VanDorn pursed his lips. “Just came back from over El Paso way. Heard you folks were just there yourselves.” His gaze flitted to Li and then back to Emmett.
“We were. On our way home from Nevada—out where Eli’s murderer was trying to hide out.”
“El Paso town marshal said you and your pardners had a little run-in with the management at the Wild Hog Saloon.”
Emmett didn’t regret what he, Juanito, and Sikes had done at the Wild Hog. Nevertheless, something in VanDorn’s tone told him the story had been twisted all out of shape since that afternoon.
“We took care of some business there.”
VanDorn motioned toward Li. “Is this the girl?”
“Wha—? No.” Emmett rose and stood beside his young wife. “Li and I met in Nevada. She has nothing to do with the Wild Hog. What’d that marshal tell you?”
VanDorn leaned forward in his chair, forearms on his knees, hands folded. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, Emmett?”
Emmett sensed Li tensing. “Jack, have you forgotten that I’ve questioned one or two suspects myself?” he said. “This isn’t two old pards just talking right now, is it? You’re conducting an investigation of some sort. Now what’s this all about?”
The rain drummed away on the roof and window as VanDorn stared at Emmett for several seconds. “That saloon owner and his lookout man are accusing you, Juanito, and your British friend of armed robbery.”
VanDorn couldn’t have surprised Emmett any more if he’d hopped up right then and punched him in the jaw. Li grasped Emmett’s hand and squeezed.
“Juanito and I skinned our Colts, that’s a fact,” Emmett said. “But that girl wanted to leave. Taft had been beating her. Who knows what else. Sikes offered that no-good son-of-a-gun five hundred dollars—not to buy th
e girl but to cover any losses Taft might claim.”
Shaking his head, VanDorn said, “That’s not the robbery they reported to the marshal.”
Now Emmett was completely flummoxed. He looked at Li and found her frown was as deep as his own. Returning his gaze to his fellow ranger, he said, “Just spill the whole thing, Jack. What’re these people saying?”
“They claim that you, Juanito, and Sikes were layin’ low, waitin’ for Taft and Mackey the next mornin’, ready to bushwhack ’em on their way to deposit their earnings at the bank. Said you clubbed Mackey across the head with the butt of your Winchester—knocked him out cold—while Juanito or your English compadre coldcocked Taft. They’ve got a couple of witnesses that say they saw the three of you hightailing it outta there lickety-split—you with the cashbox under your arm.”
Emmett threw up his hands. “Taft, Mackey, their so-called witnesses—they’re a bunch of flannel-mouthed liars, and you know it, Jack!” His heart pounded. “You know me better’n that, old friend.”
VanDorn rubbed his chin. After a moment, he said, “Where’d Juanito and his pardner come up with the money to open a saloon of their own?”
“I can’t believe this,” Emmett muttered. He paced to the window and back. “You’re the second person in a handful of days to ask me that.” He recalled his breakfast with Travis Morrison. “By any chance, did my brother’s widow—or her father—put you up to this?” He stole a glance at Li. As upset as Nan had been, she couldn’t dream up implications like these, could she? Yet that’s exactly what her father had insinuated.
“I told you I just got here from El Paso. Alonzo Perry and his deputy told me all this. Said Taft and his lookout man plus three witnesses had been in their office that very mornin’. They were pushin’ the marshal to get up a posse right away and head out after you three. Perry put ’em off by sayin’ he expected me to arrive that same-self day.”
Emmett studied VanDorn’s face. His old amigo was dead sober. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mama Galvez just inside the kitchen doorway, kneading her apron between her fingers, taking in the unfolding drama. Li rose and went to stand beside her.
“What do you think, Jack?” Emmett put his hands on his hips. “Can you really picture Juanito and me on a wanted dodger?”
After staring for a moment, VanDorn said, “Never figured you for the type to go renegade, Emmett. Juanito either.”
“I’ve made my share of mistakes, but armed robbery? Why would I ever do that? I’ve seen where that leads. Besides…”
“Yep, I know—you’ve got convictions.”
“Juanito, too.”
VanDorn rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb. “Got a confession of my own to make.”
Emmett cocked his head.
“I did stop by Morrison’s place on the way in,” VanDorn said.
Putting himself in VanDorn’s boots, Emmett thought a second. “Wanted to test the waters before driving the whole herd in, huh?”
“That’s about it. Reckoned I could get a feel for things before havin’ to confront you directly with all this.”
“What’d you get from Morrison?”
“Seems both he and Nan think you’ve gone off the rails.” He glanced at Li. “Said you’d brought back a Chinese girl. Didn’t say where she’d come from. Hence my question about whether she was the one from the Wild Hog.” He now turned to Li. “No disrespect intended, ma’am.”
Li exhaled audibly. “No harm done, Mr. VanDorn.”
“Mama Galvez,” Emmett said, “Do you know where Juanito got his share of the money from? To open the saloon with Mr. Sikes?”
She stepped into the sitting room, arms crossed. “Juanito brings only twenty-five percent. This comes from his father. Señor Sikes, he brings the seventy-five percent. I don’t know from where it comes.”
“Before we left for Nevada,” Emmett said, looking at VanDorn, “Sikes—our new British friend—told us he came to the States with enough money to live on for a little while. But back to what Taft and Mackey claim. When did this robbery supposedly take place?”
“The mornin’ after you and Juanito and your English friend went in and took one of their calico girls away from ’em.”
Emmett shook his head. “We weren’t even in El Paso that morning. Me, Li, Juanito, Sikes, and Geneve—we all rode to San Elizario the night before—just a couple hours after the big to-do at the saloon. We all stayed at the Monarch Hotel, right there by the railroad station. Checked in that morning, and checked out just before catching the afternoon train for San Antonio.”
“Hm.” VanDorn nodded. “There oughta be a guest ledger at the hotel, then, right? Serve as proof that—like you say—you weren’t even in El Paso the morning of the robbery.”
“Yep. I signed it.”
“We need that ledger. Evidence. Besides the hotel owner, anybody else that can testify that you all were in San Elizario that early in the mornin’?”
“Augusto over at the livery,” Emmett said.
“And the lady who served us breakfast,” Li added.
“That’d be Mrs. Singleton, the hotel owner’s wife. They both know Juanito and me—and so does Augusto—from when we’ve come through before.”
VanDorn’s head bobbed. He rose, walked to the window, and peered out. “I don’t suppose you’d consider goin’ back to El Paso with me? Help me look into the matter? Put things straight?”
No telling how charges like these would play out, Emmett thought. Whoever was behind these accusations could come up with a whole lot more malarkey before he and VanDorn ever got back to El Paso. He could be walking straight into quicksand. Besides, he really didn’t want to leave his wife.
When Li met his gaze, he strode over to her. She put her arms around his waist.
On the other hand, if he stayed put and let these false witnesses call the shots, they’d have him on his heels throughout the whole fight.
“If the charges are against me,” he finally said, “I obviously can’t investigate my own alleged crime…not officially, anyway.”
“So we’ll keep it unofficial,” VanDorn said. “I wanna clear your name, pard. I could use your help. Over in El Paso, you might recognize somebody I don’t, might see somethin’ I’d miss.”
Emmett thought about El Paso. How hard would it be to help Jack on the case without his accusers knowing he was there? And how dangerous would it be if he were to bring Li along? He recalled her heroics during their escape from Nevada. Even though she’d handled herself well, he didn’t relish the notion of putting her back into danger again. “Give me some time for my wife and me to talk it over. Can you do that, Jack?”
“Couple days shouldn’t matter much, Emmett.”
“I’d be obliged.”
VanDorn glanced out the window again. “Hate to go back out in this deluge, but I reckon I oughta go talk to Juanito and Sikes.”
“You don’t have to run off. Why don’t you wait till the rain’s slacked off a bit?”
“Nah, I wanna get this over with. You say their place is on Fourth Street?”
“The old Mettenberg and Sons Drugstore. Want me to come along?” Emmett was curious to hear what Jack would ask and how his amigos—particularly Sikes—would answer.
VanDorn shook his head. “You know how it is, Emmett.”
Emmett understood perfectly well. VanDorn wanted to question the accused separately—listen for discrepancies or contradictions in their stories. Fellow rangers or not, Jack VanDorn was just doing his job. And doing it well enough, Emmett hoped, to remove any doubt about his, Juanito’s, and Sikes’s innocence.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next day, the rain was completely gone, and the sun was beaming brightly, but many of the streets of San Antonio were still quagmires. Emmett and Li stuck to the crowded boardwalks as much as they could on the way to Sikes and
Juanito’s Bowlegged Buffalo Saloon.
Emmett kept telling himself that he was only imagining folks staring at Li. People were too busy with their own work and errands, too focused on avoiding the mud—both on and off the boardwalks—to notice that she was Chinese. But every now and then along the way, a head did turn. Unmistakably. They’re just thinking how pretty she is. After all, not everybody was like those three cusses he’d almost gotten into a fight with the other day. And folks were just going to have to get used to seeing her with him. She belonged there just as much as anybody else did.
“Juanito sure didn’t waste any time after the storm.” Li shaded her eyes and pointed.
On the front side of the Bowlegged Buffalo, a porch covered the duckboard walkway. Juanito was standing on the porch roof, painting the clapboard second-story false front a brick-red color.
“Thought you were gonna hire somebody else to do the painting up there,” Emmett called to him.
Juanito paused from his work and looked down. “Sí, for the lettering, we are going to hire someone. I thought we could save some money if I did the rest of it myself, though.”
“Why don’t you let that coat dry for a bit? We need to talk.”
Juanito stood back and studied his work for a moment, then headed for the ladder. “Li, you hold onto Emmett. Ugly as he is, I think he could use a fresh coat of paint.”
“I don’t think so.” She laughed. “This dress is brand new.”
Starting down, Juanito said, “You hear that, hermano—only reason I’m not going to paint you right here and now is because I don’t want to ruin your wife’s new dress.”
Hands on his hips, Emmett said, “What you got in that bucket, Juanito? Paint or tongue oil?” He let Li lead the way through the door.
Inside, beyond two new round tables, Sikes was sweating away, scouring the bar with a piece of sandpaper.
“Good morning, Sikes,” Li said, still laughing at Emmett and Juanito.
Sikes looked up and smiled instantly. “Well, hello, my other angel.”
Strong Suspicions (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 2) Page 7