Quicksilver Passion (136 page)

The old man was stubborn. Jake had to use his whip on him. But in the end, old Bill told about the stash in the woodpile. Jake didn’t have to even bother about killing him. The old man died of the beating just before Jake was planning to enjoy killing him. Too bad.

Jake wiped the blood from his lash, recoiled it, and hung it on his belt. Then he put the gold poke in his fur vest and went back to his horse. Now he wanted some whiskey and some gambling and good times. Most of all, he wanted revenge. From the last conversation he had had with the little Arapaho gal before he raped her and she hit him over the head and fled, he thought she might have gone to Denver City. That’s where he would look. After that he’d figure out a way to even the score against the Cheyenne.

Jake rode into Denver. The size of the town at the joining of Cherry Creek and the Platte River surprised him. He left his horse at the Elephant Corral, the big stockyard on McGaa Street.

Why do they call it the Elephant Corral?” he grumbled to the Indian stable boy.
I don’t see no elephants, just the most horses and oxen and wagons I ever seen in one spot.”

The boy laughed.
It’s the biggest, mister, covers most of a city block. Folks that come through here are on their way to see the elephant you know, share the adventure of goin’ West.”

He realized the boy was waiting for a tip, but he cuffed him instead.
Redskin bastard. I got no use for Injuns, kids or not.”

Hitting the boy made Jake feel better. He turned and walked slowly down the street, looking around. Yep, this must be the street with all the action, he thought, noticing the stage pulling in. Saloons and bawdy houses lined the street. Loud music drifted from open windows in the late October air and there was a bustle of horses and people up and down the avenue.

He paused before the Progressive Saloon, decided he wanted a drink, and went in and leaned on the bar.

The brawny bartender looked up.
What’ll you have?”

I’d like some Georgia moonshine, but reckon I’ll settle for whatever you got.”

The man poured, frowning at him.
That accent. You a Johnny Reb?”

Jake savored the whiskey with a sigh. It had been a long time since he’d had whiskey.
Stranger, would you believe I don’t give a damn who wins this war? Who owns this place, anyhow?”

Big Ed Chase, but Brett’s the new manager.”

Jake came alert.
Bart Brett?”

No, Lon Brett.”

Lon got a brother named Bart?”