Payton's Woman (25 page)

“Hey, mate.” He slapped
Ritter on the back as if they were good friends. His voice turned loud and his
words slurred. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How the bloody hell are you?”

Ritter downed the drinks
as quickly as Payton bought them. After getting a bottle, they moved to a table
near the back. When Ritter fell deep into his cups, Payton pressed for answers.

“So what do you hear
from our old mate?”

“Fine, fine. The old
mates are fine.”

Ritter stuck with his act
of pretending they had mutual friends. Payton had a different plan. He intended
to make him talk about someone they both actually knew.

“Last I heard, our old
mate got himself shot and had to hide inland somewhere.”

“Which mate is that?” Ritter’s
face held a blank expression.

He leaned closer, as if
he didn’t want to be overheard. “You know.”

The man scrunched up his
face in what seemed to Payton as genuine confusion.

“Larry Dunbar.”

Ritter’s mouth gaped
open. His eyes seemed to pop from their sockets. “Who’d you say, mate?”

“You heard me. It’s not
wise to say his name too loud around here.”

“I ain’t seen him in
sometime.” He sank lower over the table as he glanced behind him. “Years
probably.”

“Then you may be
surprised to learn he’ll be here soon. Fact is, he could already be in town.”

Ritter sank even lower over
the table. His eyelids narrowed as he studied Payton. “Is he a good mate of
yours?”

“Not bloody likely,” he
ground out between clenched teeth.

“Then why are you looking
for him?”

“He owes me something. I
aim to collect, even if I have to tear it from his black heart.”

“You’re not afraid of
him?”

“We’ve tangled before. This
time I’m going to take care of him for good.”

“He owes me something,
too,” Ritter said. “But collecting is the problem.”

“If he owes you money,
why don’t you go to him and demand it from him?”

The man paled. “I ain’t about
to face him down, but I am going to get the money he owes me.”

“What does he owe you
money for?”

“I was with him on his
last venture. It went bad. He promised if I stuck with him, he’d see to it that
I was took care of. The thing is, I know how he takes care of his partners.” He
rubbed a grubby hand over his bearded neck. “He cuts their throats.”

“Then why are you
waiting around for him?”

“It’s not him I’m
waiting on. I’m aiming to collect a lot of money so I can ship out of here.” He
looked Payton over carefully. “I could use a man like you to watch my back.”

“I might be interested.”
He cocked his head to one side. “But who are you planning to get money from?”

“Never you mind.”

“You don’t know
anything,” he deliberately goaded him.

“I know plenty. I was
with Dunbar when he was shot. He was hurt bad. When his fever came on him, he prattled
on for hours. I learned there was a lot of money to be had. And I also learned who
to get if from.”

Payton poured whiskey
into the empty glass and scooted it closer to Ritter. “And who would that be?”

“There were a couple of people,
but the best bet is this woman. I wrote her a letter telling her to bring me my
share.”

“A woman? That should be
easy. Why do you need me to watch your back?”

“I don’t trust her. She
probably loves the son of a bitch. She may not give up the money without proof
he’s alive.”

Payton tried to mentally
sort through the women he knew were in Dunbar’s life. Only Betsy and perhaps
Sylvia Morgan popped into his mind.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Twenty dollars.”

Payton knew he shouldn’t
have laughed out loud, but he couldn’t stop himself. He used it to his
advantage, though. “Make it a hundred, and we’ve got a bargain.”

Ritter eyed him
carefully before speaking. “Done.”

“When do you need me?”

“Thursday night.”

“That’s in two days. Where
are you meeting this woman?”

“I ain’t no landlubber,
and this ain’t my first voyage. I’ll tell you when the time comes. Just meet me
here Thursday night.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Julia laid the stack of
letters on the polished oak table in the entryway. Her hands trembled as she removed
her hat and gloves.

She picked up the letter
on the top of the stack and turned it over in her hand. Scrawled on the front
in dark pencil lead appeared the name
Betsy Dunbar
. Any letter addressed
in this manner could not be opened by anyone but Betsy.

Her heart thumped wildly.
She’d waited so long for this moment. The envelope in her hand contained
information that would lead her to her brother’s murderer—of that she felt
certain. Lawrence Dunbar was near. She could sense it. The air seemed to
crackle with his stench.

She slapped the unopened
letter against the palm of her other hand while considering her choices. With
her duplicate key to the desk drawer, the contents of the envelope would
eventually be known to her, but she worried how long she would have to wait.

If she wanted to read
the letter, Betsy had to be gone from the house. Then she’d have access to the
study without fear of discovery. But that task had become increasingly
difficult. Betsy rarely left the house. Her afternoon rides through town had ceased.
Visits to Sylvia never occurred. Her shopping excursions were nonexistent. Since
the disastrous incident at the garden party, Betsy had become suspicious of
everyone, including Julia and the Baxters. During these last couple of weeks, she’d
turned down all invitations to parties.

Respectable people had distanced
themselves from Betsy. Wilber Hennigan’s suicide and the rumors of her
involvement with her son in treasonous activities caused everyone to back away.

Olivia Baxter had tried
to persuade her to leave Betsy’s employ. She wanted Julia to live with her, but
she’d refused. Her sacrifice had been too great for her to back away now.

“Julia.” Betsy’s loud
voice called to her from the study.

She smoothed her hands down
the front of her light blue grown. Perhaps if she looked calm, Betsy wouldn’t
notice her nervous state. She grabbed the other mail. As she walked to the
study, she tried to decide what to do with the letter. She could put it back
among the other envelopes, or she could tuck it into her pocket. Later when she
was alone in the safety of her room, she could open the letter and read the
contents. After that, the letter could be destroyed as though it never existed.
Just before entering the study, she made her decision. She slipped the letter
into the stack with the rest of the mail.

“What’s taking you so
long?”

Her screeching voice grated
on Julia’s nerves. She ignored the question and took a seat in the chair across
from her. “I have today’s mail.”

Deliberately, she laid
the letters face down on the corner of the desk so the addresses didn’t show. She
grabbed the letter opener with one hand and the first envelope with her other. Her
fingers fumbled with the process of opening it. She pulled out the letter and
read the contents.

“Mrs. MacAfee has
extended an invitation to a dinner party next week. Would you like me to
confirm your acceptance?”

A grunt was the only response.

The next letter contained
the message Julia eagerly wanted to read. She tried to appear unhurried as she
inserted the blade into the envelope and slit it open along the top edge. Her
hands shook as she removed a single torn piece of brown wrapping paper. She
unfolded the note in her lap.

Quickly, she scanned the
contents. The words were scratched in pencil marks. Numerous misspellings
littered the page, but she deciphered the message.

Dunbar was hurt. Betsy should
bring money—a lot. A man named Ritter would take her to him. He’d meet her at
her old brothel Thursday night.

Her fingers gripped the arm
of her chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Lawrence Dunbar hid
somewhere in San Francisco. He’d be found, and then he’d pay for his crimes. She
shuddered with the realization there would finally be justice for her brother’s
death.

But how could she leave
to search for Dunbar? She’d sworn an oath to Payton that she wouldn’t leave
Sacramento. She’d also promised to stay out of trouble. If she went to San
Francisco to locate Dunbar, trouble would be exactly what she’d find.

She smoothed her hand
across her belly. By her calculation, it would only be a few more days before
her body revealed her situation. Or perhaps not, for her cycles weren’t always regular.
Several days may have to pass before she discovered with certainty if a baby
grew inside her. But if it turned out to be true, if she carried Payton’s
child, she had another life to worry about besides her own.

Her shoulders slumped forward
as her frustration grew. She had only one choice, to stay here. She couldn’t proceed
with her plan to find her brother’s killer.

She took a steadying
breath and released it slowly in an effort to calm herself before she handed
the letter to Betsy. “This note is written so badly that I can’t make out the
words.”

“Let me see.” She
snatched the paper from her so roughly that the heavy wrapping paper ripped in
half. Betsy laid the torn pieces in front of her on the desk and smoothed the
two halves together while she read the message. “That bastard!”

“I beg your pardon.”
Julia tried to look shocked at the foul language, but she’d heard so many filthy
words spill from her mouth that the mild obscenity left her unruffled.

“Ritter just wants the
money for himself.” Betsy looked up and her mouth dropped open. She’d
undoubtedly not meant to say that out loud in front of Julia.

“Let me see that
envelope.” She extended her hand. Her face twisted into an angry snarl. “You
know you’re forbidden to open a letter addressed like this.”

Julia pressed a look of
innocence on her face as she leaned forward and read the outside of the envelope.
Her gaze went to the stack of unopened letters. She picked them up, making it
obvious they were turned face down. “Oh, dear. I didn’t notice. I’ll sort
through the rest of the mail for any other letters addressed in that manner.”

“It’s a little late for
that.” Betsy muttered a string of obscenities.

“I’m sorry.” She attempted
to imitate Elsie’s expression when being berated by Betsy. “I’ll be more careful
with the rest of the mail.”

“Never mind with that. Go
find my maid. Tell her to pack my clothes for a week-long trip to San Francisco.”

“Are you going away?” Julia’s
eyebrows lifted in feigned surprise.

“Just do like you’re
told. And fetch Gilbert while you’re at it. I’ll have to give him money and
send him to the shipping office to purchase two tickets for the steamer that
leaves tomorrow morning.”

“Are you taking your
maid?” she asked, although she speculated her companion would most likely be
Sylvia.

Betsy paused from
getting out of her chair. Her eyelids narrowed as she looked Julia over from the
top of her blonde hair all the way down to her feet. “I’m taking you with me. I
might need someone to provide a distraction.”

“Me?” Her eyes opened
wide. “I can’t go on a ship. I get horribly seasick.”

“Stop your blubbering.
Any other young woman would jump at the chance to take a trip to a town as
lively and gay as San Francisco.”

“Then take any other
woman, but I won’t go.”

“You’re getting awfully
high and mighty lately. I suppose I have Olivia Baxter to thank for that. Her
crowd thinks they’re so much better than me.”

She almost agreed, but caught
herself in time. “Why don’t you take Elsie?”

“That whining, sniveling
little...” She paused to look at Julia. Her eyes once more appraised her. “You’ve
got a coolness about you. And you’ve got a good mind. If you’d curb that back sassing
mouth of yours and listen to me, I could turn you into a very wealth commodity.
Now do like you’re told and pack your things.”

Julia left the room
without further argument. She relayed Betsy’s instructions to the maid and
coachman. With those tasks completed, she went to her room to pack her
belongings. But San Francisco wouldn’t be her destination. She’d promised
Payton she’d stay in Sacramento. If not with Betsy, then she’d go live with the
Baxters. Olivia would be thrilled to have her as a guest. And if she carried
Payton’s baby, it would be the safest place for her unborn child.

After the coachman received
his instructions, he’d go to the dock to purchase tickets. Julia could leave
the house with little resistance. Betsy might try to stop her, but not if she
had the help of another. Once she’d discovered the French chef despised his
employer, they’d become good friends. If Betsy tried to block her attempt to escape,
Marcel would help her. But first she had to let him know of her plan to leave. She
stopped packing and went downstairs. When she reached the hallway that lead to
the kitchen, she tiptoed past the study. The voices of Gilbert and Betsy came
from behind the closed door. The name
Lawrence Dunbar
echoed through the
door. Julia halted in her tracks, hoping to hear more information about her
brother’s murderer.

“My son should be
arriving in San Francisco soon. With that bastard Hennigan dead, he’ll need my
help. This man Ritter claims he knows where Larry is. I’m going there to find
out for certain.

“Tyler is down there
also.” Betsy’s angry voice boomed through the closed door. “I don’t know why,
but he’s hunting for my son. I’m taking that blonde bitch with me to distract
him. Once I get him in my sights, I’ll shoot the son of a bitch myself. He won’t
suspect that I’d resort to putting a bullet in his brain.”