Hard Ride to Wichita (9 page)

Obviously not concerned with his own outward appearance, the stable man replied, “Carrying guns.”

Luke's hand drifted toward the old Colt when his fingers brushed against one of the pistols he'd taken from Scott. The extra weight on his hip had taken some getting used to and was now second nature. Being reminded of where he'd acquired the shooting irons and what he intended to do with them still hadn't sunk all the way in.

“Men of all sorts make their way through these parts,” the stable man continued. “The cattle barons and gunmen tend to favor Wichita or Dodge City.”

“I suppose they would.” After the stable man took hold of Missy's reins, Luke started to walk away. At the back door to the main building, Red was already being sweet-talked by the woman who'd come out to greet them. Luke was about to head that way as well when he stopped and turned back around. “You said lots of gunmen come through here?” he asked.

“They do.”

“You ever heard of a man named Granger?”

The stable man pulled in a breath and looked up as if the memories he was looking for would be drifting among the clouds that wandered above him in the pale blue sky above him. “Name does strike a chord. He a friend of yours?”

As much as it pained him to say it, Luke replied, “Yeah. I've been hoping to catch up with him.”

“I believe he may have passed through this way, but it was some time ago.”

“How long?”

Once again, the stable man's eyes wandered. Instead of the sky, he gazed over toward the backside of the closest neighboring shop to Stormy's. “I'd say at least three months or so. Maybe longer.”

“What did he look like?”

“Ain't he your friend?”

“Sure he is,” Luke replied with a smirk. “But it's been a while. A man grows a beard, maybe gets his hair cut real short, he looks different. If I know how he's keeping himself nowadays, it'll help me ask around once I reach Wichita.”

The stable man seemed suspicious, but that didn't keep him from saying, “I suppose I could recall his features and such. A favor like that usually comes along with a gratuity of some kind.”

“Gratuity?”

“You know what that is, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke replied. “If you can help me, I'd be mighty grateful.”

When the stable man smiled, he somehow looked even filthier than before. “You truly are new to this, boy. Money. I'm talkin' about a payment. You pay me and I'll tell you what I know. Lord Almighty, you're thick in the head.”

Luke reached into his pocket where he'd already put a few dollars for expenses. “How do I know you have anything good to say?”

“You're talkin' about Bose Granger, ain't you? The killer that derailed that Union Pacific train on its way to Rock Island?”

“You heard about that job?” Luke asked, hoping his question wouldn't be as transparent as it felt.

Apparently Luke's ignorance didn't shine through, because the older fellow quickly nodded. “Course I heard about it. A man who does something like that just to get his hands on a few dollars becomes famous real quick.”

Luke's stomach tied into a knot. He'd guessed that Granger was some sort of outlaw, but he hadn't considered the possibility that he was a killer of that caliber. Looking back with that in mind, he saw it made a little more sense why Scott had wanted to be so cautious when talking about the money that had been stolen. The fact that he could better understand the man that had slaughtered his own mother only made the sick feeling in Luke's innards that much worse.

After pulling out three dollars, Luke handed it over. The stable man took the money greedily and looked real pleased with himself until he saw that Luke's hand was now resting on the grip of his holstered Colt.

“Easy, now,” the old man said. “I didn't mean to offend.”

“Just tell me what you know about Granger.”

“You're no friend of his, are you?”

“No, sir,” Luke replied since he doubted he could lie well enough to right that particular ship.

“You a bounty hunter?”

Luke was more than pleased to go along with the stable man's guess if it meant less explaining was required from him. One nod was all it took to get the old man to continue.

“Granger is about my height, dark hair, and a bit wider in the face. He's got scars or marks in his cheeks. Both of 'em. When I saw him, he had his hair long and a mustache with a . . . bit more here,” the stable man said while tapping a finger to the spot directly beneath the middle of his lower lip. “Not a full beard, but just a patch there.”

“I know what you mean. How many men were with him?”

“I think maybe that's worth a bit more.”

Rage swelled within Luke's chest as he thought about the man that had been sent to spill blood all over the floor of the Croft house. Even though Scott had been the one to pull the trigger, he'd been taking orders from someone and it looked as if that someone was Granger. As his heart slammed within his chest, Luke's vision became dimmer and clearer at the same time as though the color had drained away but he could see every grain of dust on the stable man's face. “Just tell me,” he snarled.

The stable man nodded hastily. “All right, all right. There were two or three men with him. One rode back through here not too long ago. Less than a week. Skinny fellow. Looked like death warmed over.”

“I know him.”

“That's it. I keep my eyes open and listen to what the girls talk about. Them ladies sit outside and watch every little thing that goes on around here. Other than that, I ain't exactly taken into the confidence of men like Granger or any other gunman for that matter. Please believe me.”

The stable man's eyes were full of fear and every ounce of it was directed at Luke. The thrill of it soaked in much deeper than when the Paulsen brothers had turned into quivering little rats.

“There had better not be anything else you should tell me,” Luke warned.

“That's all. I swear!”

“And if anyone else comes asking about—”

“I won't tell anyone about you or that any bounty hunter was even here,” the stable man sputtered. “So help me God.”

Luke had been so wrapped up in finding Granger before anyone else that he hadn't been thinking about anyone finding him and Red. Thankful for the accidental reminder from the stable man, Luke nodded and said, “Good. Here,” he added while pulling out another couple of dollars from his pocket. “Take this for your trouble.”

The stable man reached for it with a trembling hand and stopped less than an inch away from the crumpled bills.

“Go on,” Luke said.

“M-much obliged,” he squeaked while snatching the money and tucking it away with the rest. “I'll take real good care of your horses too. Don't you worry.”

“Thanks.” Luke turned toward Stormy's to find the tall woman with the black hair standing at the back door. One hand was propped upon a shapely hip and she stared at him with a cool expression on her face. When he walked toward her, she stepped aside so another girl could take him by the hand. She looked to be three or maybe four years older than him, had long, stringy blond hair and wide, full lips.

“Hello there,” the young blonde said with a friendly smile. “Come along with me and I'll take real good care of you. My name's Emma. Are you Luke?”

“How'd you know that?” he snapped.

She placed a small hand on his chest as if she could will his heart to slow down a few beats. Surprisingly enough, her touch was soothing enough to do just that. “Your friend is in here with Rose. He told me you'd be following him in here.”

“Where is he?”

“Busy,” Emma said with a wink.

Before Luke could ask her again, he felt another hand on him. This one was only slightly larger than Emma's, but was much stronger as it rested on his shoulder. “Take it easy, cowboy,” the brunette who'd greeted him out front and let him in through the back said. “He's in good hands. Knowing Rose the way I do, I'd wager he's going to be in those hands for a while yet. Would you rather wait for him in the sitting room?”

Luke was being taken down a hallway that led to a large parlor filled with padded chairs and little round tables. There was a small bar at the far end of that room, and the air was laden with the distinct odor of pipe tobacco.

“I can wait with you if you'd like,” Emma offered. “Or you can be alone.”

Now that he'd settled down a bit and taken in his surroundings, Luke felt his muscles loosen up. He hadn't realized his hand was still on the Colt and when he took it away, both of the women accompanying him relaxed as well. “No,” he said. “I'd like the company.”

“Oh yes,” Emma cooed. “I know you will.”

A year ago, Luke had grown closer to a girl he'd known for most of his life. Jennifer Moss was the older sister of a boy that Luke used to skip stones with before they started going to school. She was a sweet girl with a cute face and a pretty smile. A few nights during the course of one spring, she and Luke had snuck up into the loft of an old barn to spend hours kissing and exploring each other with nervous hands. After that, Luke's shyness had kept him from getting very close to another girl. He'd always consoled himself with the fact that he'd at least been with one in his lifetime. After spending less than an hour with Emma, he realized that he and Jennifer hadn't had the slightest idea what they were doing in that loft.

The room Emma had brought him to was small, but cozy. The space that wasn't taken up by the bed was occupied by one chair, a small dresser, a bathtub, and a tall oval mirror held in a chipped wooden frame. After shutting the door and locking them in, Emma had set him on the bed and slowly disrobed. Luke watched her, entranced by the slow dance performed by her swaying hips and expertly moving hands. She'd then turned her attentions to him, taking him to the tub, undressing him, and cleaning him off. Once he was mostly dry, she took him to the bed and made him forget all of the brutality that had so recently filled his life.

Her touch was constant and gentle, never leaving his skin or letting her warmth fade from him. She'd kissed him intently at first, but quickly adjusted to his hesitance and took a slower pace. When it came time to go further, she let him put his hands wherever he pleased. It wasn't long before he reached the limits of his knowledge in regards to a woman's body and when he got there, she took over without making him feel awkward or ashamed.

In that short span of time, Luke felt excited, worried, eager, timid, strong, and weak. The weakness he felt when she was through with him, however, was anything but bad. She lay beside him in the dark when it was over, resting her head on his shoulder as her hand slowly rubbed his chest. Luke stared up at the ceiling, illuminated by one candle that had been sputtering on the verge of going out, lost in the simple patterns of wood grain and the lines where one board met another.

There was no sorrow in his heart.

No killers in his thoughts.

No struggling to find his way.

No plans to make.

Just him and Emma, warm beneath a wrinkled blanket, their feet sticking out from the edge that had been pulled up from beneath the mattress somewhere along the way.

“How are you doing, honey?”

“Good,” Luke told her. “I'm doing . . . really good.”

Emma propped herself up on one elbow. Her hair was a mess and her cheeks were flushed. “You sound surprised by that.”

“It's . . . been a while since I've felt good.”

“How long?”

“I guess it really hasn't been much if you were to count the days. Still, it seems like a really long time.”

She nodded and traced a design on his skin. “I've had times like that. All things must pass.”

Luke blinked. “What?”

“It's something my mother used to tell me. Good things, bad things, everything will pass sooner or later. I always thought it was a comfort. At least when she was talking about the bad things.”

“Good things shouldn't last forever. I wouldn't want them to.”

“Is that so?” she said while mischievously poking him with her finger. “Then I must not have done something right.”

Luke rolled onto his side to drape an arm over her and smiled when she didn't pull away. “No,” he said. “You did everything right. It's just that, if the blessings weren't mixed in with the rest, you couldn't really appreciate how good they are.”

“That's beautiful.”

“I don't know about that,” he said as he flopped onto his back. “It just came to mind.”

“So . . . do you think you're ready for another go-around?”

Luke's response came to him in an instant, but he still wasn't fast enough to answer her before the door to Emma's room was rattled by a key turning in the lock. He sat up and looked around for his gun. The holster had been slung across the back of the only chair in the room, which was just out of reach. The door swung open as he silently cursed himself for being so foolish as to get wrapped up in the moment at the expense of his own well-being.

Fortunately the only person standing in the doorway was the beautiful brunette that had drawn him to Stormy's in the first place. “Are you two through?” she asked.

“I hope not,” Emma replied.

“Then you can pick up where you left off in a while. I'd like to have a word with our guest.”

Luke felt Emma's hands on him before he was treated to the sight of her slipping out from beneath the blanket to get to the pile of her clothes. “We could both probably use a chance to catch our breath,” she said.

The brunette stood staring at him, reminding Luke of Mrs. DeLoach when she'd been displeased with a smart-mouthed answer or some other form of mischief in her classroom.

“Mind if I get dressed?” he asked.

The brunette sighed. “I'll wait outside. Please hurry. I'd just like to have a word with you.” She took a step back and closed the door.

Jumping from the bed, Luke gathered up his clothes and started pulling them on. While hopping on one leg to get into his pants, he nodded toward the room's only window. “Get that open for me, will you?”

Emma stayed put and shook her head as if she suddenly didn't know where she was. “What's wrong?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

“Getting out of here, that's what.”

“Why? Because of what Stormy said?”

“Stormy?”

Emma nodded. “That woman who was at the door just now. She's Stormy. This is her place.”

“That's just great.” Now that he was partially dressed, Luke pulled his gun belt around his waist and buckled it. Before he could take a step toward the window to open it himself, he was stopped by Emma, who'd crawled over the bed to get in front of him.

“She just wants to talk to you,” Emma insisted.

“Are you certain of that?”

“Yes.”

The tone in her voice left no room for misunderstanding. Emma was as certain of what she'd just told him as she was certain that the sky was blue. Luke looked at her carefully as he asked, “How are you so sure that's all she wants?”

“Because if there was any trouble, she wouldn't have come here alone. There are some men who work here that are a whole lot bigger than you who would have introduced you to a shotgun or club before you had a chance to skin out through a window. And even if none of those fellas were around, she surely wouldn't have stepped outside to give you a chance to get away if she wanted to do you any harm.” Placing her hands flat on his chest, Emma said, “She's a good woman and if she tells you she just wants to talk, that's all there is to it. Please, just give her a chance.”

Against his better judgment, Luke gave up on trying to escape. Now that he had a chance to think, he realized that not only would he be scurrying off like a coward, but he'd also be abandoning Red in the process. “What does she want to talk about?” he asked.

“I don't know. I've been a little preoccupied for the last hour or so.”

He waited for a few seconds while mulling over what she'd told him. What put his mind somewhat at ease was the fact that nobody had made another attempt to get into the room. Luke was being given some measure of trust. It only seemed right that he return the favor.

“All right,” he said. “I'll hear her out. It's not like I'd get very far anyway.”

“You got that right,” Emma told him with a relieved smile. “The last man to try jumping out one of these windows broke both legs when he hit the ground. I've got plans for you, cowboy. Best keep yourself intact.”

“I'll do my best.”

Once he'd buttoned his shirt, Luke walked over to the door and opened it just enough to get a look outside. The pretty brunette stood there with her hands clasped in front of her in a way that reminded him once again of his schoolteacher. There was nobody else with her. No armed men waiting to pounce. Not even any other girls trying to get in or out of one of the other rooms. Gathering his strength with a deep breath, Luke pulled open the door while wearing the sternest expression he could manage.

“You're Stormy?” he asked.

“That's right. I hope I didn't interrupt anything.”

“Not as such. I just didn't know I had to clear out of the room so quickly.”

She smiled, but it was nothing like the beaming display she'd put on when was sitting on the front porch. “Like I said before, I'd just like to talk to you for a moment. When we're done, you can go right back and keep Emma company.”

“All right, then. Go ahead and talk.”

“Not here. Follow me.” With that, Stormy turned and walked down the hall without once looking back.

Luke followed before he had a chance to think otherwise. Once he realized how easily he'd fallen in line, he stopped and asked, “Where's Red?”

“Is that your friend?”

“Yes. Where is he?”

Stormy turned back around and said, “Room Four, but I don't think you want to go in there without knocking first.”

“Mind if I see for myself?”

“Be my guest. I'll be right in here,” she said while motioning toward a door marked
OFFICE
. “Come right in when you're through with your friend.” Stormy used a key to unlock the door, stepped inside, and shut it behind her.

Luke stood in his spot for a few seconds. All he heard was some music and voices from downstairs as well as some scuffling from one of the nearby rooms. His hand rested on his Colt, only this time it was there on purpose. Instinct had become habit in no time at all. Since it seemed to be just him in that hallway for the time being, Luke checked the numbers on the doors and moved along until he got to room number four.

Even before he was close enough to knock, he could hear more than just scuffling coming from inside. Initially, he wanted to move away and let Red have his fun. Then he reminded himself that he couldn't be absolutely certain who was inside that room. There was always the chance that Stormy had sold him a bum steer just to put his mind at ease.

Tapping his knuckles against the door, Luke said, “Hey, Red. You in there?”

The only sounds he heard were grunting and groaning. A man and woman were in there all right. As for who they were was still anyone's guess. Wincing in embarrassment, Luke knocked harder. “Hey, Red!”

“What?” a man roared from the other side of the door. Luke still couldn't be sure it was Red since the voice was strained and breathless.

“It's Luke.”

“Whatever you're after, it'd better be good.”

After hearing a complete sentence, Luke was able to recognize his friend's voice. “You all right in there?” he asked.

“He's just fine,” a woman replied. Luke recognized it as the redhead who'd corralled Red at the very start. “And he's about to get a whole lot better.”

There was some giggling and laughing from both of them, followed by more scuffling.

Luke had heard plenty and didn't want to hear whatever was coming next. “Just checking. See you later.”

“Don't wait up!” Red said.

More than happy to leave them be, Luke walked back down the hall. When passing Emma's room he felt a pull to go back inside and forget the rest of the world existed for a while longer. As tempting as that was, he was fairly certain that Stormy would only come along to collect him again. She had a sternness about her that spoke of a woman who was accustomed to getting her way. She wasn't a sweet talker like the other women in the place, but someone who carried herself with genuine strength. If there was one lesson Kyle Sobell had taught him, it was that genuine strength should always be respected.

Luke made his way to the office door, reached out to knock, and then retracted his hand so he could just open the door and step inside. The room was smaller than Emma's bedroom, containing a desk, several small cabinets, and a few chairs. Two oil lamps lit the confined space, and their dark green shades made Luke feel as if he were stuck several feet underground. Stormy sat behind the desk without so much as flinching at his unannounced entrance.

“Glad you decided to see me,” she said while standing up.

“I said I would, didn't I?”

“There was always the chance that you might leave as soon as you had the chance. I appreciate you giving me your time. Please sit down.” When Luke sat, he watched the brunette for any hint that he might be in harm's way. The only move she made was toward one of the cabinets beside her desk. She removed a pair of glasses and a small, strangely shaped bottle.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked.

“Sure.”

After pouring out two measures of liquor, she handed one glass to him and then sat back down. Stormy raised her glass and took a drink. As soon as Luke brought the glass near his lips, he could tell it wasn't whiskey. Not wanting to make himself look foolish or timid, he took a drink. Luke's wishes to maintain his composure went out the window when he almost coughed up every drop of liquor that had trickled down his throat.

“It's brandy,” she told him. “The taste takes some getting used to.”

“Never heard of it,” Luke said.

“It's not a common sight in most saloons around here. I don't even serve it downstairs. I save it for special occasions. I can have some beer or whiskey brought up if you'd prefer.”

Luke looked her in the eye, took another drink, and forced himself to maintain a straight face. Not only did he keep from coughing again, but he actually found himself enjoying the taste. “You're right,” he said with a bit of a rasp left over from the first sip. “It does kinda grow on you.”