Rattling the Heat in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 8)
Page 47
The Dig Site Mystery Series
Welcome to the jungle—the steamy Maya jungle that is, filled with ancient ruins, deadly secrets, and quirky characters. Quint Parker, renowned photojournalist (and lousy amateur detective), is in for a whirlwind of adventure and suspense as he and archaeologist Dr. Angelica Garcia get tangled up in mysteries from the past and present in exotic dig sites. Loaded with action and laughs, along with all sorts of steamy heat, these two will keep you sweating along with them as they do their best to make it out of the jungle alive in every book.
The Goldwash Mystery Series
The Old Man’s Back in Town
From the award-winning author of the Deadwood Mystery series and the Jackrabbit Junction Mystery series
This short story is a bit of a puzzle. Each scene is a different variation of the same story for a reason, which you'll learn at the end. See if you can pick up on the clues along the way and figure out the puzzle before you finish the story. Thank you for giving it a try!
~ Ann
Overview…
In the lonely mining ghost town of Goldwash, Nevada, Christmas has come early. Unfortunately, the local bar owner must be on this year's naughty list, because Santa brought her something even worse than a piece of coal on this dark, cold winter night—her old man.
About the Author
Ann Charles is an award-winning author who writes romantic mysteries that are splashed with humor and whatever else she feels like throwing into the mix. When she is not dabbling in fiction, arm-wrestling with her children, attempting to seduce her husband, or arguing with her sassy cat, she is daydreaming of lounging poolside at a fancy resort with a blended margarita in one hand and a great book in the other.
Connect with Me Online
Facebook (Personal Page):
http://www.facebook.com/ann.charles.author
Facebook (Author Page):
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Ann-Charles/37302789804?ref=share
Twitter (as Ann W. Charles):
http://twitter.com/AnnWCharles
Ann Charles Website:
http://www.anncharles.com
Acknowledgments
Once again, I have many people to thank for their help with this book.
My husband for helping day after day with plotting, editing, formatting, cover design, and so much more.
My kids for understanding why I had to work sometimes instead of gaming with them.
I’d also like to thank the following amazing folks:
My First Draft team: Margo Taylor, Mary Ida Kunkle, Kristy McCaffrey, Jacquie Rogers, Marcia Britton, Paul Franklin, Diane Garland, Vicki Huskey, Lucinda Nelson, Marguerite Phipps, Stephanie Kunkle, and Wendy Gildersleeve. You having my back gives me the courage to keep plowing forward.
My editor, Eilis Flynn, for clarifying blonde vs. blond and making me look good on the page.
My Beta Team for giving me excellent feedback in such a short timeframe.
My brother, C.S. Kunkle, for his awesome illustrations and great original cover art.
My graphic artist, Mr. Biddles, for stepping up to the task and then some.
My readers for your positive words and uplifting comments via email and social media. You are the reason I keep writing many times when I want to bang my head on the desk and succumb to my doubt demons.
Finally, my brother, Clint, for finally trimming his beard. I was tired of singing ZZ Top songs every time I looked at you.
Cast
** KEY: Character (Book # in which they appear)—Description **
Violet Lynn Parker (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Main heroine of the series, Doc’s girlfriend, Aunt Zoe’s niece
Willis “old man” Harvey (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s sidekick and so-called bodyguard
Dane “Doc” Nyce (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s boyfriend, main hero, medium
Detective “Coop” Cooper (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Deadwood and Lead’s detective
Zoe Parker (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s aunt and mentor in life
Layne Parker (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s nine-year-old son
Adelynn Parker (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s nine-year-old daughter
Natalie Beals (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s best friend since childhood
Jerry Russo (4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s boss, owner of Calamity Jane Realty
Mona Hollister (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s coworker and mentor in realty
Ray Underhill (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s coworker and nemesis at work
Benjamin Underhill (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s coworker
Cornelius Curion (3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s client; so-called ghost-whisperer
Reid Martin (2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Captain of the fire dept., Aunt Zoe’s ex-lover
Jeff Wymonds (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s client; father of Adelynn’s best friend
Prudence (2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Ghost who resides at the Carhart/Britton house
Zeke and Zelda Britton (2,4,5,6,7,8)—Owners of the Carhart house in Lead
Wanda Carhart (2,3,4,5,6,7)—Previous owner of the Carhart house in Lead
Tiffany Sugarbell (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s rival Realtor; Doc’s ex-girlfriend
Susan Parker (1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8)—Violet’s evil sister; aka “the Bitch from Hell”
Quint Parker (1,2,3,4,5,7,8)—Violet’s supportive brother; Layne’s hero; giver of her famous purple boots
Freesia Tender (5,6,7,8)—Owner of the Galena House
Stone Hawke (5,6,7,8)—Cooper’s ex-partner; detective called in to solve cases
Rex Conner (3,4,5,6,7,8)—The biological father of Violet’s children
Rosy (6,7,8)—Camerawoman from TV series called “Paranormal Realty”
George & Eddie Mudder (3,6,7,8)—Owners of Mudder Brothers Funeral Parlor
Dominick Masterson (4,7,8)—Owner of Sugarloaf Bldg.; previous client of Violet’s old boss, Jane.
Ms. Wolff (5,8)—Previous resident of Apt. 4 in the Galena House
Hungry for more Deadwood? Check out the latest book in the Honey Beaulieu (the Bounty Hunter) series by my good friend and longtime critique partner, Jacquie Rogers.
Blazing Bullets in Deadwood Gulch
by
Jacquie Rogers
www.jacquierogers.com
Honey Beaulieu, the heroine you always wanted to be!
Wanted: Sean Chaney aka The Badger Claw Kid, $400, Last seen in Deadwood Gulch
She's Flummoxed
But first, she has to take care of a town urchin who shot her in the butt with a slingshot! Does she have to spend her last nickel to buy a building for Emma’s sewing shop? Who stole Louie Lewie’s nuts?
She’s Fired Up
Nothing gets Honey down--not pesky ghosts, not the despicable Badger Claw Kid, not Al Swearengen and his hired muscle, and not even a catastrophic town fire. But can she capture Boyce McNitt, who eluded her in her last adventure? And can she get Sam’s folks to safety?
She's Fearless
When Sean Chaney persists on robbing folks and putting his badger claw marks on them besides, she sets out to bring him in… and collect the bounty
Fresh Apple Pie—It’s Good For The Soul
It’s damn hard to make a good impression on your sorta-lover’s folks when an obnoxious ghost is riding his three-legged horse through the middle of the kitchen table, and your donkey is tonguing the door latch. I reckoned Sassy would give up eventually, and as for Roscoe, I tried to ignore him but it sure as hell wasn’t easy.
“I found McNitt,” he said.
Of course I couldn’t talk back to him with Lydia and Seth sitting across the table from me wondering what Mama and Papa did for a living. Should I tell them that my mama was a whore and ran the Tasty Chicken Emporium? Or that Papa hired out as a pistoleer? Somehow it didn’t seem fitting although I was proud of both of my folks. They was both damn good at what they did. Good people, too.
At the same time I could hardly wait to ask Roscoe about McNitt and start making plans for the
owlhoot’s capture—for that was the whole reason I had come to Deadwood Gulch.
Chicken that I was, I said to Lydia, “My mama owns a restaurant and my papa lawdogs some.” That wasn’t a lie, but it stretched the truth about fifteen miles.
“Listen to me, Honey,” Roscoe said. “He’s at the Gem Theater, which is mostly a whorehouse, and he bought a whole night. I seen him go upstairs and I know which room he’s in—but I don’t know the whore’s name.”
“That’s nice,” Lydia said. “Would you like another serving of stew?” She got up to dish up seconds for Seth. “What kind of restaurant?”
Sassy rattled the door latch again. “Behave yourself, Sassy.” To Lydia, I said, “Oh, just steak and potatoes mostly, but she got this new cook from Bavaria and he fixes some fancy stuff—pastries and such.”
Lydia sliced off another slab of bread and handed it to me. “Looks like you could use a little meat on your bones. Have another piece of bread and don’t skimp on the butter. We have lots more.”
Luther reared up on his hind legs and his head went clean through the ceiling. Roscoe didn’t need to hang on because he wouldn’t fall anyhow. “We have to go, Honey. You promised me that if I found McNitt, you’d come get him and we could leave this town tonight. Well, I found him so let’s get on with it.”
“I made a nice pie for dessert, dear.” Lydia cut a great big piece and plopped it on my plate. “Fresh apple pie—it’s good for the soul.” She handed me a pitcher of thick cream.
I was already full to bursting and it ain’t a good idea to go man hunting when you’re stuffed so full, your eyeballs bulge out like a frog’s. But both Lydia and Seth fixed their gazes on me and both of them clearly wanted to know what I thought about her pie.
“I do love pie, and this apple pie smells delicious, but don’t mind me if I don’t finish all this on account of I don’t have room for another morsel. Mayhap I should save it for morning.” I took a bite and complimented her. “The crust is tender and flaky, and the apples are cooked just right—nice and sweet, too.”
Sassy brayed and I saw where she managed to open the door a crack. She could’ve come in but she didn’t, which was strange right there.
“Sam says you have the most delightful animals. He says they’re very smart and that you treat them like family.”
“I guess they are a part of my family. I could’ve sold Pickles for three thousand dollars earlier today and turned the gentleman down flat.”
“You must have that racing mule,” Seth said. “The men were talking about that in the store. He’s mighty fast, they said.”
“He is that. He’s ornery as a bucket of cats, too.” I just might be needing his speed to get out of Deadwood, depending on who all McNitt had with him. Or depending on his mother. She owned a whorehouse here and likely as not, she had a few men hired on to protect her interests. At any rate, I had to be prepared to meet up with the meanest, dirtiest lowlifes in Deadwood.
Roscoe started kicking up a fuss again, enough to where he made my coffee ripple. “You have to get going right now while we know where McNitt is.”
Sassy brayed again and I stood. “I best go see what my donkey wants—she’s putting up quite a fuss. I’ll come back and help you do up the dishes.”
Maybe I could piece out a plan while I was outside. And find Pickles, for he usually put up a fuss right along with Sassy and he’d been dreadful quiet. Since the gambler in Winnemucca tried to steal him, I’d been keeping a close eye on my mule, especially since I got offered a fortune for him that very afternoon.
“Take your time, Honey. And you don’t need to worry about the dishes. You’re our guest.”
“Thanks a million. And if I don’t get back right away, don’t worry—business might’ve come up. But I’ll visit you again before I leave town, even if I’m not back tonight.”
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Them folks was nice and all, but between wanting to catch Boyce McNitt and being in a family home for only the second time in my life, I needed some air. And Pickles.
Turned out, Pickles had found him a nice patch of grass. I tightened the cinch, fed him his bread and butter pickle, and mounted up.
“Roscoe, are you here?” Sassy kicked out sideways and that’s when I saw him. I reckoned donkeys could see ghosts better than people.
“Are you ready to catch McNitt and get out of this place?”
“I am, but I don’t see where Deadwood Gulch is a bit worse than Silver City.”
“You ain’t been in the cribs part of the Gem Theater yet.”
“Cribs? I thought it was a high-class joint.”
“Looks like it on the outside but the whole back part of the building is cribs. Them women don’t have it so easy, neither. It ain’t like the Tasty Chicken.”
“That means the owner ain’t so nice, then.”
“That’d be Al Swearengen. You have to get past him and his hired muscle but I reckon you can get ’er done.”
“I have a long rope. How about I climb right to the window where McNitt is?”
“Won’t work. You’d be spotted faster than it takes Swearengen to slap a whore. He has that building guarded like a prison, for he don’t want any of them whores getting away.”
Sounded like a man who needed taken down. Bad. But that was a job for someone else—mine was to bring in McNitt. “I’ll take a look for myself and see if I can get a few ideas. There’s gotta be some way of getting in there.”
“There’s something else.”
“Ain’t what you told me bad enough?”
“This ain’t necessarily bad. I seen the Badger Claw Kid, too.”
“Where is he? Does he have my locket?”
“I didn’t see your locket but he’s bucking the tiger at the Gem Theater last I saw.”
“So he’s in town like I thought.” I not only wanted the bounty on him, I wanted a piece of his ass on a skewer. “I expect he’ll be gambling until he runs out of money.”
“And he don’t have much, as far as I saw.”
We took off down the street, for Deadwood didn’t have too many streets to choose from, and Sherman ran into Main Street. I could tell when we neared the Gem Theater by the noise—the walls fairly danced to the piano tune of Oh, Dem Golden Slippers! Men pushed in, ready to spend every nickel they had.
The building had two full stories and a partial third story. It’d be just my luck that McNitt was on the third floor.
“He is,” Roscoe said.
Two muscled men stood back to back at each corner of the building—likely well heeled. Even if the building hadn’t been guarded, I didn’t see no way anyone could climb up the wall to the second-floor window let alone the third floor without a ladder, and those was in short supply at the moment.
But then I got an idea. “How much can you help me out, Roscoe?”
“I always help.”
His idea of helping didn’t quite agree with mine. “Can you spook someone? Like let them see you?”
“Takes a lot of stamina but I can do it.”
“Make things move around and such?”
“Nope. Can’t push anything—my hand goes right through it.”
“Can you make people hear you talk? Or maybe howl like folks expect ghosts to do?”
“I can do that, yep. But it takes effort and I give out dreadful quick.”
“And you can make the wind blow.”
“Never tried it inside a building.”
“On account of you could blow things around, right?”
“Like I said, I never tried it indoors, but I can blow rocks and such around.”
I turned Pickles toward an outhouse back of one of the buildings a block away from the Gem Theater. When Sassy caught up, I unpacked my fanciest dress and for once, the rouge and kohl that Mama always slipped into my bag just in case I needed to dress up. I didn’t tell her that respectable women didn’t wear makeup, for she wouldn’t believe it anyhow.
“Sassy, you make sur
e Pickles stays where I need him to, and don’t let no one get close. Kick ’em good if they try to take him.”
“What’re you planning to do with McNitt once you catch him? You ain’t got another horse.”
Roscoe was right.
“The livery’s still open. I’ll rent a horse for a couple hours.”
“You look damn good, Honey. It scares me to think of what you plan to do.”
“It don’t take too much imagination. I’m a woman. Swearengen sells women and he had one hell of a lot of men out there waiting, so I expect he always needs new blood. He’ll hire me even if I am scrawny.”
“He ain’t a good man. Watch your step.”
“It ain’t my step that I’m worried about.”
“What if he don’t put you where you need to be?”
“Me and my Arkansas toothpick will figure it out. The Peacemakers won’t hurt, either.” If Swearengen didn’t pat me down before he put me to work. If he did, I might have to take measures. “And if I can’t get to those, Emma sewed a palm pistol into my drawers.”
Roscoe sighed. “I don’t expect there’s any use trying to talk you out of this fool notion.”
“Nope.” I wound a ten-foot length of thin twine in a long loop, then tied it tight so I could hide it under my skirt without it showing. “All right, Roscoe. You promised to stick with me, so let’s go.”
www.jacquierogers.com
Rattling the Heat in Deadwood
Copyright © 2017 by Ann Charles
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author, Ann Charles.