Demon's Pass (4 page)

Belle laughed. “And you want to leave him with someone like me? Don't you know that boys that age start getting pretty curious about women? And if this boy's as good-lookin' as you say . . . I might just satisfy that curiosity for him.”

Clay cleared his throat. “Yeah, maybe you have a point,” he said.

“So, are we going to sit down here for the rest of the day and talk? Or, would you like to come upstairs with me?”

Clay had come into the saloon to have a few drinks and to talk business with Marcus. He had no intention of consorting with a soiled dove. But he was surprised at just how quickly Belle had been able to stimulate his sexual appetite. And he was equally surprised when he heard himself accept her offer.

“My room is at the head of the stairs, the third door down on the right. You go on up and wait for me there. I'll get us a fresh bottle.”

Clay went upstairs to wait. When Belle knocked on the door a moment later, he was amused by the idea of her knocking on her own door.

“Come in, by all means, come in,” he called. Belle slipped through the door, then closed it behind her. She stood in front of it and smiled self-consciously at Clay.

“Here I am,” she said.

Belle held up a bottle. “I hope you like this. It is real Tennessee mash, not some local rotgut.”

“I'm sure that I will like it,” Clay said. He reached for the bottle, but when he saw no glasses in her room, he pulled the cork and drank right from the bottle, never taking his eyes off the girl.

Belle undid the ribbon that help up her hair, then shook her head to let it tumble down. That simple act created the amazing illusion of transforming her from a prostitute to an innocent young girl, and for a second Clay hesitated. He thought about her story of being abused by Slayton when she was fourteen years old. He had no intention of being a despoiler, but that was exactly what he felt like.

“Is something wrong?” Belle asked, noticing the expression on his face.

Clay took another drink straight from the bottle, then shook his head to clear the image. “No, just thinking, is all.”

Belle moved closer, then reached out to touch him with cool, soft hands. His need for her grew stronger, and he moved his hand from her hand up to the top of her dress. Holding it there for a moment, he could feel her warm, heavy breast through the material.

“I'll get undressed,” Belle said. Her voice didn't sound like that of a little girl now. On the contrary, it was deep and sultry, and she looked at him through smoky gray eyes as she began removing her clothes, pulling the dress off her shoulders and pushing it down her body.

Clay watched her undress, fascinated by the almost languid way she did so. Her studied actions had the effect of inflaming his desire to an even greater pitch.

Belle folded her clothes very carefully and placed them, one item at a time, on the chest near the water basin. Then she turned to face him once more. Her body was subtly lighted by the lantern that burned on her dresser.

“Shall we?” she invited, gesturing with her arm toward the bed. Though she was naked, and the bed beckoned, the invitation was as guileless as if she had just asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. It made the moment all the more erotic because of it.

“Yes, we shall,” Clay said with thickened tongue as he, too, began to undress.

 

After he left the Brown Dirt Cowboy, Clay went to the various warehouses around town where he made arrangements to take delivery of the goods he would be transporting to Utah. One of the places he visited was E. G. Farben, Authorized Agent for Winchester Firearms.

“They tell me folks are willing to pay up to ten times what these rifles cost out there,” Farben said as he watched Clay examine some of the rifles he had on display.

“Yes, I've heard that as well,” Clay said. He raised one of the rifles to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel.

“I can let you have fifty of them at a very good price.”

Clay lowered the piece, looked at its smooth lines, then shook his head. “I'd sure like to,” he said. “These are beautiful guns, and I know they'd fetch a good price. But I haven't bought my mules yet and I don't know how much money I'll have left.”

“Why don't you buy oxen? They're cheaper.”

“And a lot slower. No, thanks, I'm going to buy mules.”

“Well, you could always take on a partner,” Farben suggested “If you want, I could look around and see if I can find someone who would be interested in making an investment.”

“A partner?” Clay replied. “No, I don't think I would be interested in . . .” He paused, then he smiled. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Yes, that's it! That's the answer! Thanks for the suggestion, Mr. Farben. Maybe I will take on a partner at that.”

“So, you want the rifles?”

“Will you throw in two Sharpes fifties at no extra cost?”

Farben stroked his chin and thought about it for a long moment, then he nodded.

“All right, fifty Winchesters, and two Sharpes. “Now, do you want me to see if I can find a partner for you?” Farben asked.

“No need for that,” Clay said. “Unless I miss my guess, I've already got one.”

 

Parker was taking a nap on the bed when Clay returned to the hotel room. The opening and closing of the door awakened him, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he said. “I fell asleep.”

“It's just as well,” Clay replied. “It took me a lot longer than I thought it would. It's nearly time for supper. That is, if you're hungry.”

“I'm starving,” Parker replied.

“Thought you might be. By the way, you look a little better after your bath. Smell better, too. It's too bad you don't have a change of clothes to put on.”

Parker shrugged. “The Indians got everything. This is all I have left.”

“Then you're going to need to spend some of that money to buy yourself some more clothes,” Clay said. “Fact is, you'd better get yourself a complete trail outfit while you are at it, clothes, blanket, waterproof, a rifle. I looked at some beautiful rifles today. You'll also want a pistol, a hatchet, a rope, and a good knife. You have to have a good knife out on the trail.”

“Out on the trail?”

“You aren't planning on staying here in Independence, are you?”

“I don't know. What about the orphanage?”

“Yes, well, I checked up on the orphanage, and it didn't sound all that good to me. You said you checked on it too. What did you think?”

“It didn't sound all that good to me, either.”

“So, tell me what you think of this. I've found a bargain on three wagons. I bought them, as well as a thousand pounds of flour, five-hundred weight of beans, and an equal amount of coffee and sugar. I also bought twenty-five cases of matches, twenty-five cases of ammunition, fifty rifles, assorted cooking utensils, two hundred bolts of cloth, needles, thread, and buttons.”

“What are you going to do with all that?” Parker asked.

Clay smiled. “Well, my young friend, as soon as I can find eighteen sound mules, I'm going to haul those goods out to Salt Lake City where I intend to sell them to the Mormons for a great profit. You ever heard of the Mormons?”

“Yes, I've heard of them. Don't know as I've ever seen any, though.”

“Well, you're going to. That is, if you throw in with me. They're out in Utah, and that's where I'm headed.”

“I seem to recollect Pa tellin' me somethin' about the Mormons,” Parker said. “Wasn't there a wagon train attacked out there in Utah one time? And lots of folks killed, too, I hear. All by Mormons and Indians.”

Clay shook his head. “That's right. I reckon Mormons can be mighty unfriendly to us gentiles if they think we're coming to cause them harm. But that happened a long time ago.” He took a letter from his pocket. “And I've got a letter here, from Colonel Alexander Doniphan. Doniphan and Brigham Young are close friends. In this letter, Doniphan introduces me to Young, and asks him to treat me kindly, and trade with me fairly. Now, tell me, Parker Stanley, how much money do you have in that poke you're carrying around?”

Parker hesitated for just a beat, before he answered.

“One thousand dollars.”

“Good. I was hoping you would have about that much. You see, the thing is, I've spent everything I've got on the wagons and trade goods, and I've still got to buy the mules. That's goin' to leave me flat broke, and we're going to need money to hire a company, and for operating expenses. If you are of a mind to, Parker Stanley . . . you can throw your thousand dollars in with me, and we'll be full partners . . . fifty-fifty.”

“Fifty-fifty?”

“That's what I said.”

“But, you've got a lot more'n a thousand dollars invested, haven't you?”

“I've already got five thousand invested,” Clay replied. “But if we're going to be partners, I figure it's best that we be equal partners. That way, we'll start our friendship out on an even keel. Now, what do you say?”

A broad smile spread across Parker's face. “What do I say? I say yes! Yes! Oh, thank you, Mr. Springer.”

Clay held up his hand and smiled back at the boy. “Now, that's another thing, Parker. If we're going to be equal partners, I think you should call me Clay, don't you?”

Parker nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, Clay, I think so too,” he said.

Chapter 3

 

When they reached the encampment, the Indian who was carrying Elizabeth pushed her from his horse. By now she was so sore from the hard ride that she barely felt the fall. She was also still in considerable shock from having watched her family butchered. The bloody scalps of her mother and father now hung from a leather thong tied around the waist of one of the Indians. The last time she saw her brother, he had been struck on the head by one of the Indians, and was lying by their burned-out wagon. She was sure he was dead as well.

They had arrived at a small village, which lay alongside a stream. Here, women and children gathered around her, staring at her with eyes that were wide in curiosity and wonder.

Although Elizabeth noticed them, she didn't return their gaze. Instead, she concentrated on one of her captors, a big man with an unruly mane of red hair. She stared at him, unable to understand how one of her own kind could be a party to something like this. He noticed her staring at him.

“What are you looking at, girlie?” the man asked gruffly.

“Nothing,” Elizabeth said.

“Nothing, hell. You were staring at me,” the man said.

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “As I said, I'm looking at nothing.”

Elizabeth was surprised when one of the Indians laughed.

“What are
you
laughing at, Brave Eagle?” the white man demanded.

“I am laughing at what Captured Woman said,” Brave Eagle replied. “She has said you are nothing.” He laughed again. At the curious stares of the other Indians, the brave said a few words in his own tongue that Elizabeth couldn't understand, then many laughed, including the women and children who had gathered around.

The burly red-haired man came over to glare down at Elizabeth.

“You got a sassy mouth, missy, and you're makin' me look bad in front of my Injun friends. I don't like that.”

“What's going to happen to me?” Elizabeth said.

The big man grinned. He took a tress of her blond hair in his hand and looked at it, stroking it between his thumb and forefinger. “Well, now, it depends on how good you are to me. If you got what it takes to please ole' Red Talbot, then like as not, I'll let you live.”

“Talbot? That's your name?”

“That it is, missy, that it is,” Talbot said, pleased with himself. “I 'spect you've heard of me, all right. I'm Satan's unholy angel. Mamas use my name to scare their children.”

“No, I haven't heard of you,” Elizabeth replied. The simplicity of her negative answer seemed to upset Talbot, and he smirked at her.

“Well, no matter. You'll soon know all about me.” He smiled evilly. “What I like, and what I don't like,” he added, suggestively.

“If pleasing you is what it takes to survive, Mr. Talbot, I would rather die. Go ahead and kill me now.”

With an angry growl, Talbot grabbed the bodice of her dress. He jerked his hand down and, tearing it open, exposed her breasts. Reacting instinctively, Elizabeth raked her fingernails across Talbot's face, leaving four bloody streaks on his cheek. With a cry of pain, he jumped back from her, as she crossed her arms across her breasts, attempting to restore some sense of modesty.

“Bitch!” Talbot shouted, putting his hand up to his cheek. He looked at his bloody fingers, then glared at her with eyes narrowed in anger. He started toward her. “Maybe I'll just grant you your wish and kill you right now.”

“Go ahead,” Elizabeth said defiantly.

At that moment, Brave Eagle stepped in between them. He glared at Talbot. “You cannot do this,” he said.

“You stay out of this, Brave Eagle,” Talbot growled.

“No,” the Indian said firmly. “You cannot kill her.”

“This here's got nothin' to do with you. This here is between two white people.”

“She is
our
prisoner.”

Talbot took out a dirty handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on his cheek, then he gave another snort.

“Do whatever you want with her,” he said. “This whole thing has been a waste of time, far as I'm concerned. They didn't even have one penny with them.” He glared at Elizabeth.