Hell's Belle (6 page)

Here Del had
pictured…Well, he'd imagined her uncle with spittle on his chin and an unholy
gleam in his eye, going into the girl's room late at night with a switch.
Wanting to bare that little bottom for a good spanking—

Whoa. Del wasn't
going to complete that nightmarish scene. But what did either of the Bells and
the people of Wadsworth or the frontier have to do with Massachusetts?
"You saying those folks came here from the Eastern seaboard? I never heard
where they hailed from. Don't really care, but—"

"I'm saying
they're calling her a
witch
!" Amos blurted.

If he hadn't had
his elbows propped on the wood counter, it was just possible Del Mitchell
might've fallen back on his ass. He wasn't sure he'd heard right. He tried to
repeat the word, got his lips almost in a pucker for the W, but only managed a
strangled whistle.

Probably because
his brain still hadn't decided whether to whistle in amazement or hoot with
laughter.

"You can't
mean…? Pointy hat, dances in the woods late at night? Are you serious?"

"I'm not
joshing," Amos vowed, raising his right hand. "A broom-waving,
curse-casting, daughter of Satan, witch."

Del couldn't
contain himself a second longer. He began shouting and shaking with laughter.
Glee so magnificent, tears rolled down his cheeks by the third good breath he
sucked in. He was barely able to wheeze between whoops. "Amos! If
anybody…if the Devil wanted a servant…He could find a whole lot…
worse
that that! She wouldn't hurt a fly."

Amos, Del finally
noticed as he began sobering himself, didn't seem amused. In fact, if Del
didn't know better, he'd say the older man looked disconcerted. Wary. He'd
backed up a couple feet and was looking at Del strangely. "You're sure of
that? There's no credence to any of it?"

Now Del ceased to
be amused himself. "Any of what? All you've told me is some nonsense about
people saying a certain female is one of Satan's minions. Didn't give me the
least clue why, or how folks could come to that bizarre conclusion about
someone who just moved here. Or even how it all came to be on Independence Day.
What did she do, light off one of those Chinese firecrackers without using a
match? Grow a wart on her nose while passing out fried chicken at the
picnic?"

"You were
there when it started. Folks say you saw her bewitch that horse and knock her
cousin off the ladder, just by waving her broomstick."

"Oh, for God's
sake! She was sweeping the floor inside the goddamned emporium. The man was
outside on a ladder, hanging up a banner, and
he's
the one who spooked
that claybank!"

"I wouldn't
call it a 'damned' emporium, if I were you. There are enough folks in town who
refuse to set foot in the place without—"

"Let me out of
here, Amos," Del barked. "Now. Unlock that door and let me out of
here. Miss Bell did not bewitch that animal, and this whole story is skewed so
far out of whack, it's going to take some serious straightening…but I'm just
the man to do it. Leon was with me that day. He saw the whole thing, too."

"Well, it's a
relief to hear that at least part of that incident was misconstrued, but then
there was situation at the picnic."

Amos unlocked the
door, knowing full well Del wasn't going to storm out of it without that second
shoe hitting the floor. Hard to believe there was more of this tripe. Del
braced himself. "What happened at the picnic? She fly overhead on her
broom singing
The Battle Hymn of the Republic
?"

"A live toad
jumped out of Miss Margie Dayton's blackberry pie. Miss Bell and her relations
had just taken the bench across from hers at the supper tables when the crust
sort of
bulged
, and—"

"Did you
actually see that with your own eyes, Amos? You actually saw the pie bulge when
the girl sat down?" Del demanded, fists on his hips.

"Uh, not
entirely. I saw Miss Dayton swoon, and of course, we'd all heard the shrieking
and her accusations. I did see the offensive creature hopping away, but I wasn't
seated right at that same table. There
was
a live toad, Mitchell.
Covered in fruit filling," Amos said with a defensive sniff.

"Those Foster
boys take real pleasure in tormenting Miss Margie, and you know it. One of them
probably hid under the table with that toad for a prank. Was there only one
blackberry pie?"

"Uh, no. One
for each table. I reckon some had cut into one of the others," Amos
admitted, looking a little penitent. Not enough for Del's blood pressure, but a
little.

"Has everyone
in this place gone around the river bend while I was away? Somebody distorts a
tale about a gal sweeping with a broom and a runaway colt, and the next thing
you know, we got folks ready for barbecued female trussed to a stake?"

Amos shrugged.
"Well, you know how people talk…"

Del couldn't
believe how furious he was. How ridiculous they were all behaving, how utterly
unjust it was to spread a nasty rumor over nothing. He also couldn't understand
why he was so passionately aroused to jump to the Bell girl's defense, but he
couldn't recall being this angry since he'd read that damned note from his
erstwhile fiancée. And he wasn't sure he'd been this furious even then.

"Let me set
one thing straight, here and now. You say a lot of things you oughtn't about
people, Stanislaus. I never have liked coming to claim my mail because the only
other man in this town as fond of an open mouth is the dentist, and at least
when
he's
done, someone's the better for it. This is beyond gossip. This
is cruelty, plain and simple. Those people just moved here, and she hasn't done
a thing to warrant being treated like some leper. I'll do what I can to put
things to right, but you better watch what you say from here on out."

Del banged out of
the post office and realized he'd better go have a drink or two. His blood was
boiling and he needed a chance to cool both his head and his heels. Besides,
watering holes were always rife with rumors of their own. Maybe he could start
the patch-up with a bottle.

"You got a
letter here, Leon," he snarled at the wrangler, who'd been waiting across
the street for him.

"What did you
do, open and read it, then copy it over neater and seal up a fresh envelope?
You were in there so long, thought maybe Amos decided to ride out to meet the
mail courier back in Reno."

Normally Leon's
good-natured teasing made Del smile. Now he just glared at the boy until Leon
visibly shrunk in front of his eyes. "Golly, Boss. I was just pullin' your
leg a bit. What happened? You get a letter from Miss Lydecker again?"

"Worse than
that," Del blurted without conscious thought. "Seems that while we
were off horse trading, the townsfolk decided that poor Miss Bell had somehow
put a hex on the horse and made him jump into the store. Knocked her cousin off
his ladder, probably made some cow someplace give birth to a lamb…you name it. All
because she had a broom in her hand that day. You ever hear such
nonsense?"

"Not in all my
born days!
That's
what old Amos had you tied up in there for, to ask about
her hexing our pony?"

It even sounded
ridiculous when this kid said it.

Del took a deep
breath, tried to slow his heart rate. "That's what started it, but there
was some foolishness at the picnic on the Fourth that we missed, added fat to
the fire. We got to straighten at least the menfolk out on this. Maybe get Bet—hell,
I forgot! Betsy and Avellina were there, too."

Leon nodded.
"That's right, and Betsy knows that other gal didn't do nothing but help
her brother get them garters off his scalp." Leon looked to be fighting
back a laugh at the memory.

"Cousin. He's
her cousin." Del started walking Leon toward Minerva's Pleasure Palace.

"Oh,
right," Leon said. Then he squinted up at Del. "The other man's some
sort of kin, too. Why do you think they'd let people hereabouts get such crazy
notions and talk like that for? Can't be good for business. You'd think that
puffed-up fella who runs the place would put a stop to it."

Del silently swore.
Unless he missed his guess, that puffed-up fella Bell might have been the one
to start it. Del recalled only too well the words the furious proprietor had
shouted the morning of his grand opening. Something about a family curse and
hell.

Then Del realized
that for all he knew, Betsy or the other whores might have started the rumor.
There were few enough decent women in a town like this one. The soiled doves
didn't much care for competition, even though there were plenty of men to go
around. Hard truth was, a lot of the railroad workers and local fellows would
bed a strumpet, but they wouldn't marry one. The working gals had to look after
their own futures however they could. Even if it meant slurring the reputation
of an innocent newcomer to take her out of consideration.

A low blow, but
then, so was taking off with a blackleg in the middle of the night.

Del had learned firsthand
that some people would bend or break polite society's rules when it suited
their purpose.
Anybody
could have started this rumor mill grinding.

He and Leon arrived
at the Palace. Del narrowed his eyes at the bardog, a burly fellow known to be
tight lipped and ham fisted. "What's this horseshit about the Bell gal
putting a hex on one of the horses I sold to Gordon? You know who's spreading
that? How the hell am I supposed to sell ponies, if folks are reporting my nags
are half crazy?"

The barkeeper snorted
in derision and set glasses of rye whiskey in front of Del and Leon. "I
heard something of the like. Betsy told a couple of the men there weren't
nothing to that. But you know the minister and how he can get to frettin' over
a problem."

"The minister?"
This stunned Leon, and Del was inclined to agree. He hadn't even considered the
local preacher in the equation…but hadn't Del himself just been thinking
recently that attendance was down at the House of the Lord? And Phillips
believed himself personally responsible for every soul in Wadsworth—or what he
stubbornly called Big Bend—making it into Heaven. The barest ripple of the
Devil coming within a mile of the Truckee...other than the half-mile section of
whorehouses and casinos Satan had already stuck his pitchfork in, and Franklin Phillips
would come sniffing for evil like a coon hound.

"You know how
preachers are," the bartender said. "
I
wouldn't, but I figure
you stop by church now and again." Del knew there was a barb in there
about his busted wedding plans. He hadn't been back inside that church since.

He turned and
hefted his whiskey glass toward a quintet of men playing poker at the corner
table. "Hey, gents! Good to see you. Pretty funny, that tale about my pony
and that gal over at the emporium. Girl and a magical broomstick. But a man has
to wonder, if she could do all sorts of incantations and wave her broom, why'd
she want to go busting up her own family's store? Seems to me she'd have had
the claybank jump into the dry goods shop."

"Hey, that's
right! Why wouldn't she do that?"someone inquired.

"Because she
can't
,"
Del said loudly and firmly. "She had nothing to do with that horse shying.
Leon would know."

"That's
right," Leon verified. "Del told me that bronco wasn't ready yet, but
I'm stubborn. Knew he was a good piece of flesh, bring a good price. Now Del's
got to pay for the window and that broken china. So I guess bein' greedy isn't
always so smart. Specially when part of it's probably coming out of my pay."

Del had actually
considered such a punishment, but abandoned the idea now. Leon had just made a
sacrifice more important than money. He'd lopped off a chunk of male pride for
a lady's honor. Time was, young fellows were knighted for that kind of bravery.
Del slapped the wrangler on the shoulder. "Naw. You just get to break that
black."

Leon grimaced. The
horse in question was probably the meanest creature on four legs. Leon got the
appropriate expressions of sympathy, and wandered over toward the table to join
the others.

Del turned back to
the bardog and lowered his voice. "You think the girl's uncle had anything
to do with any of this ugly talk? He's about the nastiest-tempered dandy I've
had occasion to meet. Not hailing from the East myself, I can't say what's
proper and what isn't, but I never would've talked to my ma or any women
kinfolk the way he groused at his niece when I was at his emporium. Said
something about her being the family disappointment."

"You mean he
called her 'Hell's Bell'? Yeah, just about the whole town's taken to calling
her that."

Del swore under his
breath and the barkeep cocked his head as he polished another glass. "You
got a personal stake? Betsy said there was somethin' between you and the girl.
Workin' faster than usual, ain't you?"

"Naw! Heck, I
only just made her acquaintance that day. Don't know how Betsy would read romance
or matrimony in a man tipping his hat to a gal, but—"

"Matrimony,
eh? Still got that stuck in your mind." The bartender turned back to his
shelves and replaced the clean glassware.