Allen was the main street, Pace had said. What he hadn’t told her was how boisterous and lively the town was. Last night’s fire apparently hadn’t slowed things down. Not for a town like Tombstone. Freight wagons jammed the street two blocks down; three vegetable wagons driven by Chinese farmers rolled past her while the constant sound of hammering echoed everywhere. Tombstone, it seemed, was thriving, despite the fire.
Serena walked purposefully down the boardwalk and stopped at the first saloon she came to. This seemed like the best place to start looking for Matt. With trembling fingers, she smoothed her hair up under her hat. She’d never been inside a saloon before, never even dreamed of going into one. She stood staring at the swinging half-doors for a moment, trying to work up her nerve. A glance told her several people had stopped to stare at her.
My reputation won’t be worth a nickel in this town by sundown, she thought with disgust. Then she shrugged. To hell with all of them. If she had to go into a saloon to find Matt, then she’d do it. Who cared what anyone thought? With a deep breath, she stepped through the swinging doors.
She stopped immediately to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. All activity in the long, narrow barroom came to an abrupt halt as the men stopped their conversations, their card-playing, and their beer-sipping to stare at her.
Serena was suddenly glad to feel the weight of her mother’s derringer tugging on her drawstring handbag.
As she glanced around the room, she was surprised. She’d always had the impression that saloons were dingy, dirty places filled with the dregs of society. She revised her opinion at once.
The Lucky Lady was anything but dingy. The room was dimly lit compared to the glaring afternoon sun outside, but there was certainly nothing dingy or second class about it. The tables and chairs were all of highly polished oak, all orderly, all clean.
And that bar. She’d never seen anything like it. At least thirty feet long and polished to a high mahogany gloss, it gleamed in the dim light. Three men leaned on it at the far end, two standing, one sitting on a padded stool. Each man had a foot resting casually on the shiny brass foot rail. Behind the bar a huge mirror framed in elaborate scrollwork covered the entire wall. Row after row of spotless crystal stemware and glass mugs lined the shelf before the mirror.
There were at least a dozen patrons around the room, counting the three at the bar. Most of them appeared to be businessmen by their dress. A couple of cowboys sipped on their beers while three men who could only be miners played cards at a back table.
When the bartender folded his arms across his ample chest and scowled at her, Serena stopped her gawking.
“Ain’t no ladies allowed in here,” he said with a growl.
“Excuse me,” Serena said, stepping up to the bar. “I’m looking for a man.”
The bartender’s face immediately cleared. His eyes roamed over her in a way that made her flesh crawl. “Well now, that’s different,” he said with a grin. “We got a whole room full o’ men here. I happen to have an opening for a new girl, an’ you’re sure pretty enough. Just take your pick, sister. You can use the last room on the right, upstairs. My take is fifty percent of whatever you make. If I don’t hear no complaints about you by midnight, the job’s yours. Can you deal?”
Serena felt the heat of the blush that stained her cheeks. He actually thought she…she was…she wanted to…In shock, she fought hysterical laughter and managed a shaky, “Uh, wh-what?”
“Deal. You know, cards—poker, blackjack.”
Serena managed to regain her senses by then. She supposed she’d asked for this, coming into a saloon this way. But his assumption still angered her. “I’m sorry, but—”
“That’s all right, honey. I guess it was too much to ask that a gal who looks like you could be smart enough to understand cards.”
“I understand cards perfectly well, thank you,” she managed between clenched teeth. “But that is entirely beside the point. I did not come here looking for a job. I came here looking for a specific man. I’m trying to locate Matt Colton.”
One of the men leaning against the end of the bar chuckled at her predicament and gave her a bold wink. The man on the barstool ignored the burning match in his hand and stared at her blankly.
The bartender looked skeptical. “Now what would a young, pretty thing like you be wantin’ with the likes o’ Colton? Why, he’s meaner than a stepped-on rattlesnake. He’d chew a tiny thing like you up into a million pieces and spit you out before you knew what hit you. My advice to you is steer clear o’ him. He’s just plumb bad news.”
Serena clenched her teeth. “He’s my brother,” she ground out.
The man on the barstool straightened, his disinterested stare turning sharp with interest. The match burned down to his fingers. He winced and shook it out. Serena ignored him.
The bartender snorted. “Honey, if Matt Colton’s your brother, that’s your problem. Ain’t seen him around lately.”
Her voice said, “Thank you.” Her eyes said, Drop dead.
She stepped back outside just as a team and wagon rattled past at top speed. Serena held her breath, waiting for the dust to settle.
Matthew Colton, you better damn well appreciate what I’m going through for you.
When she could breathe again, she walked to the next saloon with determination in every stride. This time the bartender was out on the boardwalk sweeping sawdust from in front of his door.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said when she asked about Matt. “He hasn’t been around here in at least a week. You might try across the street there.” He pointed to the saloon directly across from his. “If that doesn’t work, try down at the end of the block at the Last Chance.”
Serena thanked him politely and hurried across the street. Her spirits rose a tiny bit. At least this second man had been nice. The first one might have been, if she’d phrased her question differently. She bit back a grin at her own stupidity in simply asking for “a man.” No wonder he’d jumped to conclusions.
This third saloon destroyed her good mood. Compared to the Lucky Lady, The Watering Hole was a dump. Compared to an outhouse, it was a dump. It reeked of sour beer and sweaty bodies and Lord knew what else. Every surface—tables, chairs, bar and floor—was covered in grime. She was relieved to find out Matt was not one of their regular customers.
“Try over to the Last Chance, next block down, past the fire,” the bartender advised.
Serena thanked him and stepped back outside. That’s when she saw the fire damage. She shuddered. There was a gaping black hole in the middle of Tombstone. For two blocks along the north side of Allen Street, nothing stood but a few charred posts. Wispy tendrils of smoke tainted the air. The destruction flowed north along both sides of Fourth all the way up to the next street. From where Serena stood, she couldn’t tell if or where the fire had spread from there.
Sixty-six businesses. It wasn’t luck that there had been only two injuries. With a fire that size it was nothing short of a miracle. Serena shuddered again, then walked on down Allen until she spotted the Last Chance near the end of the street, past the fire.
The Last Chance Saloon was every bit as fancy as the Lucky Lady, complete with velvet drapes and a crystal chandelier. But here, Serena had a surprise. She was greeted by an attractive woman, perhaps in her late twenties, dressed expensively in royal purple satin trimmed with white lace. The matching fringed hat covered in bows and flowers added just the right accent to be highly fashionable. What startled Serena, however, was the tremendous amount of cleavage revealed by the low, scooped neckline of the dress.
The woman’s mouth curled up in a surprised grin. “You must be Serena Colton. I’ve been expecting you.”
Serena blinked. “You have?”
“Of course,” the woman said.
“I’m pleased to meet you, but why should you know who I am?”
The woman laughed, a pleasant, cheerful sound. “Pace told me he had a twin sister. What he didn’t tell me was how m
uch alike the two of you look. But even if you didn’t, Matt’s talked so much about his family that I couldn’t help but recognize you by that white streak in your hair. Although he did lead me to believe you were only twelve years old. I’m Kali Randolph.”
“Pleased to meet you. You know my brothers?”
Kali laughed again. “One of them better than I should, the other not as well as I’d like.”
Serena blushed and tried to stifle a giggle. “I don’t think either one would want me to know which was which.”
“I don’t think either one would want you even talking to me, much less coming into a saloon.”
Serena waved a hand in dismissal. “Pace is no prude. He wouldn’t think anything of it.”
“But Matt?”
“Matt will probably have a fit. Do you know where he is?”
“I might,” Kali said, her look turning cautious.
Serena sobered. Kali had seemed friendly enough at first, but something had changed. “If you knew where he was, would you tell me?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On what you’re planning to do once you find him.”
“Do? I…don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, are you going to baby him and feel sorry for him, or are you going to give him what he needs?”
“What is it you think he needs?” Serena asked.
“A swift kick in the ass.”
Serena nearly strangled on laughter. Feigning a thoughtful look of innocence, she lifted the hem of her skirt and revealed the pointed toes of her kidskin walking boots. “Do you think these will do?”
The corners of Kali’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “They’ll do. And so will you. Come on. I’ll take you to him.”
Kali grabbed her handbag and parasol from behind the polished, gleaming bar and led Serena outside. They went back the way Serena had come, then turned down a side street and nearly collided with three men engrossed in discussing the drastic results of the previous night’s fire.
“Excuse us, ladies,” one of them said, doffing his bowler hat.
Serena’s eyes narrowed. He was attractive, with a high, smooth forehead, and deep-set eyes. A thick mustache angled down on both sides of his mouth like an inverted V and emphasized a bushy goatee on his chin. Yes, attractive, if she didn’t know who he was. But she did know, instantly.
He recognized her in the same moment. “Kali, you should be more careful about the company you keep,” he said. “After all, you don’t want to get a bad reputation.”
Kali’s brow raised in question.
The mayor of Tombstone, who Serena knew was also the editor of the Tombstone Epitaph, then smirked at Serena, making one side of his mustache twitch. “Why aren’t you on the reservation with the rest of the squaws, half-breed?”
“Why aren’t you in hell with the rest of the scum, Clum?” Serena grinned. “How about that. It even rhymes. Clum…scum. I like it.” She nodded her head decisively.
John Clum rolled his eyes to the sky. “All the Colton’s seem fairly hard to get along with,” he told the men with him. “But in my experience, the females of the family are by far the worst.” Then he addressed Serena with a smirk. “Saw that brother of yours last week, that Fire Eater.”
“Mr. Clum,” Serena said as if lecturing a small child. “You know very well that Pace’s Apache name is not Fire Eater, it’s Fire Seeker.”
“Ah, yes.” Clum nodded. “And what name did the Apaches give you?”
She would have walked on and ignored him at that point, but he stood directly in her path. “Up until now, they’ve always called me Serena. But if you don’t step aside and let me pass, they’ll be giving me a new name.”
Clum stuck his thumb and forefinger into his vest pocket and smirked again. “And what might that be?”
“If you’re lucky and I’m feeling generous, the worst they’ll call me is She Who Spits In Old Agent’s Face.”
The two men with Clum suddenly found the toes of their boots fascinating in the extreme. Their shoulders shook with silent laughter as Clum glared at them. Kali didn’t even attempt to restrain her laughter.
“One of these days that mouth of yours is going to get you into serious trouble, young lady,” Clum warned Serena.
“I could say the same for you,” she told him. “I don’t like being called a squaw.”
Clum’s eyes widened, then his brows lowered. “You’re half Chiricahua. You’ve always seemed…proud of that.”
“Yes, Mr. Clum, I’m proud to be half Chiricahua. But a white female is called a woman. A negro female is called a woman. A Mexican female is called a woman. An Apache female is no more, no less than any other female, Mr. Clum. She’s a woman, the same as they are.”
No one said a word as Clum eyed Serena thoughtfully.
“Good day, Mr. Clum.” Serena nodded, then stepped around him so she and Kali could be on their way.
Halfway down the block, Kali stopped and shook her head.
“What is it?” Serena asked.
“Serena Colton, I like your style.”
The two young women smiled at each other for a moment, then continued down the dusty street.
The neighborhood took a drastic turn for the worse. The buildings were all run down, dilapidated, unpainted, some with canvas walls, others made from packing crates. Garbage lined what passed for gutters. In addition to the usual scrawny dogs who fed off town garbage, here, pigs ran loose. And rats. Big ones. Bold enough not to care that it was broad daylight and people walked the streets.
The people, too, seemed a rougher lot than those on Allen Street. There were no men in business suits and no women in nice dresses. There weren’t any women in clean dresses.
Kali led Serena down a side alley to the back of a building that had been so haphazardly thrown together with scrap lumber that it looked like a good sneeze would topple it. There were three doors along the rear, but no windows.
Kali paused at the third door. “I don’t know what you’re used to, but I’m sure you’re not prepared for this. I…I should have told you right off…”
Serena’s heart knocked against her ribs. She felt sick. What was Matt doing in a place like this? “Told me what?”
For a long moment, Kali looked everywhere but at Serena. Then she seemed to come to some sort of decision and looked Serena right in the eye. “You know about last night’s fire.”
Serena’s heart knocked harder. “Matt’s been hurt?”
“He had to jump from his hotel window. He broke his leg.”
Some drunk jumped… “Is he all right?”
Kali grimaced. “I don’t know. After Dr. Goodfellow set his leg, I took Matt back to the Last Chance with me, put him up in my room.”
Despite her concern for Matt’s welfare, Serena felt herself blush at the implication in Kali’s words.
“The long and short of it is, I tried to take care of him, tried to mother him, I guess. I scolded him about his drinking. He got so mad he bribed some miner into helping him leave. This is where he ended up.”
Serena eyed the rickety, windowless shack and held back a shiver of distaste.
“Why don’t you wait here?” Kali suggested. “If he’s still in there, I’ll bring him out.”
Serena straightened her shoulders. “If Matt can stand it, I can stand it.”
Kali studied her a long moment. “All right, but I warn you, it won’t be pleasant.”
Kali pushed the door open, and Serena followed her inside. A foul odor hit her in the face. Both women fumbled in their bags for perfumed handkerchiefs to press against their noses. The only light in the room came through the open door and the numerous cracks in the walls. The room was tiny, filthy. Four cots, three of which were empty, left barely enough room to turn around.
Most of the smell seemed to come from the occupied cot in the far corner. As they proceeded into the room, it was impossible for Serena and Kali to keep their skirts from brushing ag
ainst the disgustingly dirty blankets and walls.
“Oh my God,” Kali whispered as she bent over the corner cot. “Can you hear me? It’s me, Kali.”
Serena sucked in her breath in shock, then choked on the lungful of foul air. The stranger on the bed was thin and pale, obviously ill. Where his skin wasn’t covered in soot, it was a sickly yellow color beaded with sweat. Faded red longjohns, stained and singed beyond redemption, were all he wore. He hung one leg off the side of the cot and shifted restlessly, stirring up a little cloud of dust on the dirt floor. The other leg stretched out painfully straight in a snug splint. The white bandage stood out starkly against the soot and grime.
“He’s burning up with fever,” Kali muttered. “If he’d gone home with Pace like I told him…”
Serena’s eyes widened and darted to the man’s face. His hair was soaked with sweat and plastered to his skull. His eyes were dull and lifeless, his lips, caked and dry.
If it hadn’t been for that scar on his cheek, Serena doubted she would have known who he was.
It was all she could do to keep from running from the room screaming. This pitiful, run-down stranger reeking with the stench of his own filth couldn’t be Matt, couldn’t be her stepbrother, the larger-than-life hero she’d worshipped all her life. It just couldn’t.
But it was.
Chapter Three
Matt squinted at the two figures wavering above him. The curves and sweet smells told him they were women. One was only a black silhouette against the blinding light streaming in through the open door, but the other, he recognized.
“Kali?” Damn, but his throat was raw. “That you?”
“It’s me. Lordy, Matt, you’re a mess.”
Matt fumbled beneath his one ragged blanket, which was wadded up between him and the wall, and clutched his pint of whiskey. “Glad you came.” It took most of his strength just to whisper the few words. “Open this for me…will you?”
Apache-Colton Series Page 75