When the strolling pair finally stopped in front of a building, Cassandra was surprised to see that it was the community’s post office. In short order, she found herself escorted through the public area where the good people of Lake Bliss collected their mail towards a door at the back of the room that displayed a faded sign proclaiming: Thaddeus B. Thornway—Post Master.
Based on the unimpressive sign, she had expected to find a dingy bland little office on the other side of the door, but when he swung it open and stepped aside to let her pass, she found herself in for a shock.
It was a very well-appointed office. The man had an ornate oak desk, far too large for the office. A huge globe of the earth in one corner and a fully stocked bookcase also were prominent. Most impressive was the back window to the post office, which was a large stained-glass window, depicting what appeared to be a schooner under full sail.
Thornway entered behind her and after closing the door, he dropped her bag in the shadow of one side of the desk and turned to her with a booming laugh.
“I never get tired of that look of awe when people see that,” he proclaimed. “Made by my late wife, Betsy Rose! Nobody could do stained glass like that little lady. Nobody!”
“It’s lovely!” Cassandra commended. “She sure would have been justified to claim braggin’ rights as a master artisan!”
Her statement must have caught Thornway unaware. He whistled, his eyes lingering on her face. “Never would have expected a big word like that coming out of the mouth of a grifter like you!” he said.
Internally, Cassie shook her head. She had been well educated, attending one of the finest finishing schools in the country before moving on to higher education. She hardly thought artisan was that big of a word, making her wonder what sort of people Thornway generally associated with. She would soon find out the hard way.
For a brief moment, though, her thoughts returned to her education. Though she was the oldest, it had always been assumed that the younger Dutch, as a male, would be taking over the ranch. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear he just wasn’t a cattle rancher. He had no drive or enthusiasm for it and frankly, she knew he wasn’t very good at it. He had surprised everyone revealing what he really wanted to do with his life and that was choosing the military as his career. All had presumed with all her education, she would be taking over instead.
Ultimately, she had derailed expectations to also follow her true love and that was upholding the law. Something about standing up for what was right had always appealed to her from a very youthful age. Law enforcement was a man’s world, but through her skill and determination, she had broken through into its ranks.
As for Cedar Ledge, it had worked out fortuitously as being third in line, Lijuan had now been promised the opportunity to run the family business and the woman had succeeded in the task beyond all expectations.
Cassie’s reverie came to a jarring and abrupt halt at the feel of a hand smacking her across the curve of her ass. She whirled about and had she not been a professional when it came to maintaining a cover, she would have landed a haymaker across the face of one Thaddeus B. Thornway.
“Hot damn!” Thornway was grinning behind her. “When I told Clark Bishop over in Cloverfield that none of his gutter rat regular whores would do, as I was looking for just a certain type, he said he sure enough knew just the right girl! That bastard sure called it right. Honey, you are going to earn that thousand dollars I’m paying you!”
Cassie raised an eyebrow as she did not care to be called a girl when she was thirty-one years old. Realizing for a second how liberally she used it herself when ordering her sisters about, she let it pass and gave him a big grin. One thousand dollars was a lot of money, so she knew she better show him the right response.
“A thou-yipe! Who do I have to shoot in the back to earn that kind of money?!” she said mischievously at him.
“His name is Cornelius Blake. Folks around here just call him Corky, though.” Thornway spilled out immediately. “He’s my former brother-in-law, younger brother of my Betsy Rose, may she rest in peace. Won’t be any shooting involved … unless it comes to that.”
Cassandra feigned a sigh of relief at his last statement. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that,” she smiled. “I ain’t afraid to walk on the other side of the law, but I don’t know shit about shootin’ irons. Maybe you should be fixin’ to give me the rest of the details … after I whet my whistle, of course. You got any whiskey, Thornway?”
Thornway, grinning, opened one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a bottle of liquor and two shot glasses. As he did so, an object within the drawer instantly drew her attention, but she did not react.
“You’re in luck,” he spoke, as he poured her a glass. “Usually, I prefer a fine cabernet, but I find such luxuries beyond my means for some time now. All that is going to change after tonight.”
“I ain’t much for wine, but I hear from those who like to drink that there glorified grape juice don’t get any finer than the stuff from the Corderro Crest vineyards down Mexico way!”
“That is correct!” Thornway grinned. “I’m surprised someone of your standing has even heard of their wines.”
Cassie smirked at him as he had no way of knowing that she was intimately familiar with the famed vineyards. Catalina’s family, on her Mexican side, were its owners. Growing up, their father had allowed Cattie to spend the summer months at the vineyard so she would get to know the family of the mother she had no memories of. As a result of her continual exposure to the Corderros who naturally preferred conversing with her in their native Spanish of which she quickly became fluent in as a child, Catalina would spend the rest of her life speaking with a Mexican accent that dove-tailed with her Latina beauty.
“You’ll find I’m full of surprises,” Cassandra said as a matter of truth.
“Just as long as none of them come when you are performing your mission,” Thornway warned as he poured his own glass. “I was fortunate enough to be playing cards with Clark last week over at his whorehouse. He heard me complaining about my brother-in-law and that’s when he told me Corky was one of his best customers. Not that high and mighty Corky Blake is going to set foot in a brothel, mind you. I’m sure you know Clark arranges to send him a different blonde every week. Tonight, you’re going to be his new blonde and you’ll keep him busy while Mr. Corday goes about his business downstairs.”
“And just who is Mr. Corday?” Cassandra inquired.
Thornway downed his shot immediately, while she still held hers. “Only the finest safe cracker money can buy,” he replied. “Paid for him to come all the way out from St. Louis. Now, I’ve got to pay him an extra day because you are a day behind. By rights, I ought to dock you a couple hundred dollars!”
Cassandra steeled herself, burying her repulsion and wrapped her arms around him. “Now don’t go doin’ that,” she begged. “After the job is done, I promise I’ll find another way to make it up to you.”
Thornway nodded his head approvingly. “I think that would be fine.” His voice became light and bubbly at the notion. “Soon as Corday cracks the safe and we have the fifty thousand that miser has stuffed away, I think some sort of celebration would be in order.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Cassandra hooted, downing her own shot.
“Would you care for another?” Thornway asked afterwards.
“Nah, I best be keepin’ my wits about me,” Cassandra shook her head.
She set down the shot glass and paid it no mind. She could have easily done another. It took a lot to get the Wildes stumble drunk, with the exception of Lijuan whose petite body always seemed to get hit by liquor like a ton of bricks almost immediately. Cassie, Catalina, and Honor, however, had many occasions of fun attempting to see who could drink who under the table with Catalina usually coming out the winner. They all agreed it was her Corderro blood.
Cassandra looked around the room now, making her decision. She had enough of the basic plot against this Cornelius Blake, plu
s the names of the two would-be perpetrators. She wasn’t sure if there could be charges against Miss Marla who was already cooling her heels in the Cloverfield jail anyhow. Probably not, she thought, but putting this Corday away, if he was anything like the reputation Thornway had given him, would be the true victory.
It would have been easy enough for her to subdue Thornway on the spot and take him in herself, but whenever possible, she preferred to tip off the local lawman. She enjoyed her undercover work, and there was no point in letting word spread throughout Arizona about a formidable female lawman who worked undercover. Everyone back home in Alamieda, of course, knew about her and her sisters, but the further away from Cedar Ledge, the more her anonymity increased and she preferred to keep it that way.
The time was at hand to excuse herself, find the local sheriff, turn in this Thornway character and get her hands on a guitar so she could get in a little practice before the show started later. Idly, she wondered if there was any kind of registration fee. That wasn’t any concern for her, anyway, so she shook it off and then looked at Thornway with a rosy face.
“You sure got an excitin’ night lined up for me and all! I think it best I be gettin’ myself a wee bit of rest first,” she told him. “Sounds like I will be gettin’ a workout entertainin’ ol’ Corky tonight. I’ll just be excusin’ myself now to go and get a room at one of the hotels.”
“Spending money on lodging will not be necessary,” Thornway said glibly. “Connors! Davenport!” he yelled out immediately.
At his shout, two burly looking men entered. They were unshaven, one sporting bloodshot eyes and the smell of sweat wafted off them as they approached. Cassie looked at them and then shot Thornway a glance.
“Now what’s all this about?” she asked him.
“These are two of my employees,” he said. “They haul the mail to and from the train in Phoenix out to Lake Bliss. You’re going to be my guest at my home and these two … gentlemen are going to keep an eye on you.”
“I, all a sudden, get the impression maybe you don’t trust me, Thornway,” Cassandra said gritting her teeth.
Thornway only walked towards her and lifted up her chin to leer at her. “Where my salvation of fifty thousand dollars is involved, I trust nobody! The boys won’t let you out of their sight until the job is done. I shall see you at my house later.”
“Ugh, you at least might have picked a couple of nursemaids who wash and shave occasionally!” Cassandra wrinkled her nose for emphasis.
“Duly noted. Men!”
When he cried out again, jerking his thumb, the burly men closed in on either side of her.
Cassandra began to weigh her options immediately. She knew she could surely take the shorter of the two, but the bigger one, who she later learned was Connors looked like an oak tree come to life, and then there was Thornway. When he had pulled open the drawer for the whisky, she had seen a revolver he kept along with his whiskey. Reluctantly, she decided to continue the charade and hold off making her move until a more opportune moment.
The two men hustled her out the door and they were a good piece down the street when she suddenly remembered she did not have her bag. It had been forgotten back in the office.
Within that bag were the two extensions of her own hands, their loss making her curse under her breath. Without the silver-plated pearl-handled six shooters that had felled so many who wished harm to come her way, she felt something akin to naked. Worse yet, once Thornway realized the bag was still there, and if he took it upon himself to snoop through it, this jig would be up before the band even took their places!
CHAPTER 10
* * *
The Arizona sun was nearing its retirement for the day as it dipped inexorably towards the mountains that served as one of the borders of Alamieda. As a result, there were few people on the streets of the cattle town as most were home enjoying their evening meals with their families.
This left few people to pay attention to the bull of a man who had just tied his horse off near the stagecoach office. Those that did see him would have offered a fair description of the man if they likened him to a barrel with legs. He may have been short and stocky, but his arms and legs rippled with thick chords of muscle seemingly straining to break free from his dusty, dirty cloths. Under his tattered cowboy hat was a smooth dome, thanks to his hair having fallen out a good ten years earlier when he was only twenty-four.
The man’s small black eyes scanned around the street but did not find what they were looking for. Disgruntled already, he strode over to the door and tried it, but it was locked. The man shook it vigorously as he could see a slender, nervous-looking man inside sweeping up. When he wouldn’t stop shaking the door, the man inside shook his head and came over to open the door a crack.
“Sorry fella, we’re closed,” the man apologized. “No more stages tonight, anyway. You can get your ticket in the morning.”
Kit Franks felt like snarling at the man that he hadn’t even said he was there looking for a ticket, but he refrained. He just wanted to get the information he was looking for and get out of town. He wasn’t even supposed to be in town in the first place! It wasn’t like he could have sent his half-wit brother, Neil into Alamieda. He had had no choice. Something had gone wrong and going into town was the only way to find out what was going on.
Forcing a smile, Franks stepped towards the door and told the other man, “Not looking for a ticket, friend. I just want to know if a Chinese woman got off the afternoon stage.”
The other man looked thoughtful for a while, then he nodded and said, “Yeah, I remember seeing such a lady get off of it.”
“Did someone come and pick her up?” Frank asked.
“The hell if I know. Some other woman from the stage came barging right in, the minute the China woman was stepping down off it! Complaining about the rough ride! I says, lady, you got a bone to pick, take it up with the Almighty! He’s the one who created this earth and every darn pothole that comes with it! Anyways, I didn’t have time to be looking out the window to see where that China woman went off to.”
Franks had the information he needed. He didn’t even bother to say a thank you or a goodbye as he turned and walked back out into the street. The clerk closed the door behind him and locked it as he shook his head at the rudeness. Franks pulled the brim of his hat down lower. The last thing he needed was to be recognized. After all, he had wanted posters starring his ugly mug spanning from California to Texas.
He looked up and down the street again just as the sun dropped behind the steeple of the Methodist church at one end of the main street. Finally, he had a reason to smile as he saw a diminutive woman standing on the edge of the street. Her head was bobbing around as if she was searching for something. Three bags rested at her feet. “That’s got to be her!” he thought as he hastened off in her direction.
Drawing close to her, his belief was confirmed as the details of her face crystalized. The slanted almond eyes and her yellowish skin branded her as the Chinese that she was. When he was a few feet away from her, several things about her struck him immediately.
She was such a petite woman, but there was no mistaking a fine figure when he saw one. She may have donned a jacket to ward off the coming evening chill, but her large breasts seemed to strain to want to escape the material covering them, not unlike how his own muscles wanted to burst free from the cloths he had wedged them in. It wasn’t just her body, though. Those features he had seen were beautiful. Perhaps she was one of the most beautiful women he had laid eyes on in his wretched life.
His smile only widened as he thought of what fun it was going to be when he cut all the clothes from her supple body and had his way with her back in the cave before they killed her. Then he noticed her hand; the right one. It was covered completely in immense bandages to the point where it reminded him of a boxing glove. He could see the bandage extended up her arm under the sleeve of her coat. What in the world had happened to Miss Huang?
He c
ame to a halt and looked down at her menacingly. The tiny Chinese woman shrank back, keeping her head bowed. Franks kept a belly laugh to himself, knowing full well she was no doubt terrified of him. Most women were, and for a good reason. Her fear delighted Franks even more. If she was scared now, the devil only knew how she was going to feel later when she was at his mercy.
“You understand English?” he asked her when he was close enough.
The woman meekly nodded her head.
“Okay then, Miss Huang,” he muttered coarsely at her. “I’m here to bring you to your father. I’m guessin’ that’s the money in the bags there.”
Again, the woman nodded her bowed head. Franks looked around. The smart move was to be getting back to the hideout as soon as possible. Still, he wanted to see the fruits of their labor. He knelt and partially opened one of the bags and was greeted by sheaf of bills. He looked up at her and parted his lips, revealing his yellow rotting teeth.
“Good work, bitch,” he mumbled. “Huang is lucky to have a daughter like you. You’ll be with him soon.”
Franks rose back to his feet and looked around again, satisfied that the few people on the streets weren’t paying them any attention.
“Where have you been since getting off the stage?” he asked the timid Chinese woman.
Haltingly, the woman told him in broken English how she just walked around, waiting until someone approached her to pick her up as Mr. Ting had instructed back in San Francisco. This brought Franks back to the whole reason he had come to town in the first place. His partner had failed to return to the cave with the woman when he was supposed to. After a few hours had gone by, Franks knew he had no choice but to go into Alamieda to investigate.
“So no one approached you before me saying they were here to pick you up?” Franks asked.
The woman shook her head again, still keeping her eyes lowered, not wishing to make contact with his.
“Okay, I just thought you might have seen my friend,” Franks sighed.
Wilde-Fire: Wonder Women 0f The Old West (Half Breed Haven Book 1) Page 14