Runabout (4 page)

}"And how much do you want to be paid for that?"

}The old man grinned. "I just want my share of the business, boy. Fifty-fifty, right down the middle."

}As Luther gazed across the smooth, highly polished bar, he knew it was one of the best investments he'd ever made.

}"Well," the old man began leisurely. "The good news is that we sold a fair amount of beer this morning and that Blue Turley and the Mitchum fellow are getting up a game tonight in the back room."

}Luther looked around hastily to ensure that they weren't being overheard. Gambling of any sort was a serious crime in the state.

}"I said I'd keep an eye out for them," Ruggy continued. "For a simple five percent of the take."

}"Five percent."

}The old man's eyes widened innocently. "Seems fair to me."

}Luther laughed. He left all the decisions about the place to Ruggy.

}"I'm putting that money aside for the new building," Ruggy said with a broad smile.

}Luther's brow creased. "I told you, I haven't decided about the new place."

}"But you are going to," he said, unconcerned, "and what better use could you have for that old Henniger building than a bar and billiards parlor?"

}"Mr. Ruggy," Luther explained quietly, "it's on Main Street. Reverend Bruder would be damning my soul from his pulpit for a month of Sundays if I were to open a saloon right in the middle of town."

}Conrad chuckled. "Lordy, it's all true what they tell ya," he said. "You can take the boy out of the church, but you can't take the church out of the boy."

}"It's not that," Luther answered quickly. "I just respect the preacher, and he stands up for me in this town. I don't want to make trouble for him or myself."

}With a nod, the old man let it go. "As you say, boy."

}Ruggy went back to polishing the beer goblets and Luther looked around the bar, slightly uncomfortable.

}"So that's the good news?" Luther said, trying to change the topic. "What's the stinkin'?"

}Ruggy sighed heavily as he set the polished goblet forcefully on the shelf behind him. With a frown the man leaned over the bar nearly nose to nose with Luther.

}"That
female
you've been scurrying around with has been here all afternoon."

}"Emma?"

}Conrad nodded. "I don't approve of no gals of no sort that hang out in places like this."

}Luther knew that Conrad only allowed his wife, Mattie, inside to scrub and clean the place, and he would never open the door for customers until his lawfully wedded was safe at home.

}"What's she doing here?" Luther asked.

}The old man shook his head. "That's what I was fixing to ask you. She come in here about mid-afternoon mad as a wet hen. I told her you hadn't been here, and I didn't know when to expect you. It's Easter Sunday, for Lord's sake. Folks ought to be in church."

}Luther couldn't argue with that. "What's she been doing all this time?"

}Ruggy made a face as if he'd just had a taste of sour apple. "She's been playing pocket billiards."

}Muttering, Luther walked to an open doorway at the far end of the saloon. The pool room was separated from the main room so that the billiards and snooker players would not be distracted by rowdy drinkers. The room itself was bare and simple. A green cloth-covered table dominated the space in front of three large glass windows. Although there were gas lamps for evening play, true snooker players only attempted serious games in the full light of afternoon.

}A serious game was presently in progress, but it was not billiards. Emma Dix, giggling seductively, bent suggestively over the table, pool cue in her hand. Blue Turley, a rangy young cowboy, leaned over her back ostensibly giving her advice about her angle on the ball. Ferd Mitchum was sitting on a stool in the corner watching with such glee, Luther assumed that his vantage point offered a good view of the woman's bodice.

}When Emma finally took her shot, it was wide, a truly dismal attempt.

}"Oh, poot! I missed again," she complained with a pretty pout.

}"You just need practice," Blue Turley assured her with a chuckle. "And I'm here for you to practice on anytime."

}The young woman found his suggestive remark amusing. Luther did not.

}"Emma!"

}All three turned to face him. Emma's eyes lit with appreciation.

}"My, my, look what the cat dragged in this evening."

}Luther glared at the two men, before turning his attention toward the woman.

}"May I speak with you a moment, Emma?"

}Handing her cue to Turley, Emma gave him a flirty grin. "See you boys later," she assured them. Her chin high and giving plenty of wiggle to her walk, Emma made her way to Luther's side.

}"What are you doing here?" he asked through clenched teeth.

}"Why, I'm playing pool." She looked around innocently.

}"Emma, this is no place for ladies."

}Her grin was positively wicked. "Honey, not being a lady is one of the things you like most about me."

}Luther led her out of the pool room to a table at the far back corner of the saloon where he politely offered her a chair.

}"I'll have a beer, Conrad," she called out. "Or whiskey, if you got some stashed behind the bar."

}"Coffee," Luther said. "Two, black."

}"Two coffees coming right up," the old man answered.

}Emma was clearly not pleased and frowned unhappily at him until Ruggy brought the tray.

}The blue tin mugs, one slightly dented on one side, were seldom used and almost new. Luther touched the handle on his, but it was too hot to pick up. He glared right back at Emma.

}"I don't want you coming here anymore," he said, his voice strong with conviction. "No ladies, women, or females of any breed hang out in this saloon."

}Emma's eyes narrowed. "I needed to see you," she told him. "What am I supposed to do, wait at your house and watch over your little brother? He's really too young for you to leave alone."

}She was baiting him and Luther knew it. If Luther had a weak spot it was his brother. He'd taken responsibility for him from childhood and was almost obsessed with seeing that the younger Briggs had it easier than he had himself. Frequently Emma'd made little jabs about Luther's overprotection. More than once he'd risen to the bait, but not today. Deliberately he let her snide remark pass right over him.

}"Perhaps you should spend more time at your own home," he said with an unpleasant smile. "The gossips seem to think you are shirking your duty there."

}It was a cut guaranteed to wound and it hit the mark cleanly. Furiously, Emma raised her hand and slapped Luther's face.

}Emma's eyes widened as she stared at the brightening red mark against his cheek and a stab of fear coursed through her.

}Luther cleared his throat and took a deep breath to calm himself. Glancing around he saw every eye in the place upon him. With deliberately casual unconcern he reached up to rub lightly the injured area.

}"Well, at least she didn't break my jaw," he announced to the ogling crowd. His words drew hoots of laughter from the men in the saloon. Assured that no further fireworks were about to occur, the men turned back to their conversations and their beer. Luther looked across the table at Emma.

}"I apologize," he said quietly. "I was angry. I can fault you for a lot of things, but caring for that old man is not one of them."

}Emma merely stared at the mug of coffee before her. It was cool enough to drink before either spoke again.

}"Where did you go?" she asked.

}"I had to see a friend."

}Raising her eyes, she gazed at him speculatively. "I have friends, also," she said, nodding toward the billiard room where the sounds of shiny duronoid balls cracking against each other could still be heard.

}"Blue Turley?" Luther shook his head in disgust. "That no-account wouldn't know an honest day's work if it came to the door with a calling card."

}Emma lowered her eyes coyly. "But he's got mighty big shoulders for a woman to lean on."

}"Yes, ma'am." Luther snorted. "And you should see some of the dirty-looking hags that have been leaning on them."

}She raised her chin as if she intended to make some further comment, but Luther raised his hand to hush her.

}"I think that we should stop seeing each other for a while."

}The statement was so unexpected that Emma gasped. "What?"

}"I'm going to be busy for a few weeks and I think that perhaps we shouldn't see each other for a while."

}Emma shook her head. "You can't be serious," she said. She looked around her as if searching for the answer to some strange puzzle. "I won't come down here anymore," she assured him. "I never dreamed you'd be this upset."

}"It's not that. Certainly you don't belong here, but you're free to come and go as you please."

}"Did that little slap hurt you?" she said, disbelieving.

}"Of course not, you—"

}"Blue Turley? That little flirtation with Blue? Why, that's nothing, honey, you know that. The closest that rounder's ever come to loving on me is pinching my backside."

}"I'm not likely to be jealous of Blue Turley," Luther agreed. "It has nothing to do with you. I have something important in the works and I just don't think we should see each other for a while."

}"But—"

}"I'm not saying
never,"
he added quickly and reached across the table to touch her hand. "I just have some plans and I think it would be best for both of us if we weren't seen together for the next few weeks or so, until I get things worked out and completed."

}Emma's jaw tightened. Even in the dim light of the saloon she looked every day of her twenty-eight years plus a dozen more. "No, Luther. You aren't dropping me like some used-up rag on the garbage heap," she said quietly.

}"Dropping you?" Luther leaned back in his chair and looked at her curiously. "Emma, we've got no claims on each other. We both know we've just been in this for the fun. No promises have been made."

}Her voice was harsh, dangerous, threatening. "Oh no," she agreed. "No promises were made. Not one little promise at all. But I'll make you a promise now, Luther Briggs. You try to drop me, for even so much as a week, and you will live to regret it."

}"Emma—"

}"I am no faithful hound that comes when you whistle and stays when you say sit." Pushing her chair back angrily, she rose to her feet. "I wish I hadn't already slapped you. 'Cause I would dearly love to do it again."

}Chapter 3

}His best white shirt shone brightly in the last pink light of evening as Luther Briggs stepped onto the porch at the Bruder parsonage. Before he knocked, he donned the gray tricot jacket he carried beneath his arm, and casually pulled a small celluloid comb from his back pocket and ran it through his thick black hair, which was still slightly damp from his bath. Then he pulled his stiffly starched white collar to make certain it was standing straight up and he tightened his necktie.

}Finally, he rapped smartly on the heavily scrolled frame of the Bruders' front door.

}No answer came right away. He knocked again, louder and more forcefully.

}"Yes! Yes! I'm on my way." Luther heard the complaining voice through the door. A minute later it was flung open by a sweaty and flustered Philemon Bruder.

}"Luther?" Reverend Bruder's voice sounded both surprised and pleased. "I certainly never expected to see you here on a Sunday evening."

}Luther smiled at the man. Though the preacher's hair had started to gray badly, his handlebar moustache was still a bright carrot-red, and his body tended toward long and lean. These days he sported the muscles more suited to a professional pugilist than a parson, readily visible since he was wearing a sweat-stained quarter-sleeve cotton shirt and baggy trousers.

}"Evening, Rev," Luther answered, using the familiar nickname. "What have you been doing, chopping cotton?"

}The preacher chuckled. "I'm working out in my gym."

}"Your gym?" The whole town knew the minister had an almost devout interest in exercise and bodybuilding, but Luther had not heard anything of a gym.