The Case of the Deadly Desperados (4 page)

Ledger Sheet 8

“STOP!” CRIED THE WOMAN.
“No drinkee!”

I turned & saw that it was the woman with the parasol from the stage. She had brown hair with a little feathered hat perched on top and a puffy red and pink dress.

She said, “No drinkee water. It heap bad medicine.”

I said, “Beg pardon?”

She said, “Oh! You speak English. I thought you were an Indian. I wanted to warn you that the water hereabouts is undrinkable. It is tainted with arsenic, plumbago and copperas.”

I did not know what any of those things were but they sounded nasty.

I said, “What do people drink?”

She said, “Mainly whiskey.” She smiled. I could not tell if it was Smile No. 1 or Smile No. 2.

I studied her carefully. Her red and pink dress was puffy below the waist & skimpy above. It had some faded black lace on it & I judged it had seen better days. Her fringed parasol matched the dress. She also had a pearly fan and a pretty beaded purse.

She tipped her head on one side and said, “Wasn't it nice of the driver to let you keep your twenty-dollar gold piece?”

I said, “Are you a Soiled Dove?”

The woman's eyes opened wide. They were as blue as the sky above.

I said, “The reason I asked if you are a Soiled Dove is this: my dead pa used to say that women who wear red and black lace are usually Soiled Doves, but I see you are wearing a corset, so I cannot be sure.”

“Well, yes,” she said, fanning herself. “I suppose you could call me a Soiled Dove, only it is not real polite to call a person that to her face. I prefer the term
Actress
.”

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” I said. “I did not mean to offend you.”

“Then no offense taken.” She looked me up and down. “Can you tell me why you are dressed like an Indian but speak like an American?”

“I am half white, ma'am. My name is P.K. Pinkerton.”

“Pleased to meet you, P.K. My name is Belle Donne.”

She held out her hand. She was wearing dusty black gloves. I shook it. She smelled of rose oil and whiskey.

“I was just visiting a gentleman friend over in Como,” she said, “but I live here in Virginia, in a crib up on D Street.”

“How can you live in a crib?” I said. “That is where babies sleep.”

She said, “Here in Virginia they call a one-room frame house a crib. It must be your first time up here.”

“Yes, ma'am. We only moved to Dayton four months ago.”

She was still smiling. “Would you like me to show you around?”

I nodded. I was glad to have a resident of the place show me around, even if she was a low-class woman who sometimes sparked men for pay.

Belle gestured at the dusty street with her fan. “This is F Street. People here call it Chinatown. Many people despise the Celestials and only tolerate them because they are the best launderers. However, I like them. I find them to be even-tempered & calm. I live up on D Street but I intend to move up to A Street as soon as I can bag a rich banker or broker. See up there?” She used her folded fan to point up the mountain. “The most desirable houses are highest up. They have hardly any shootings.”

I said, “Shootings?”

She said, “You often see men shooting at each other right out in the open. But they don't mean nothing by it. It's just that people drink a lot of liquor here in Virginia and everybody carries a gun.”

“Do you carry a gun?” I said.

“Of course.” She fished down the front of her low-cut dress & pulled out a small Deringer handgun with an engraved barrel and walnut grip.

I swallowed hard. My pa had warned me about Virginia City. I had not been here two minutes & had already met a pistol-packing Soiled Dove & heard of drunken murder in the streets.

She said, “This piece may look small, but it has a few surprises.” She replaced the Deringer & said, “Carson mills silver under trees some where.”

I said, “Beg pardon?”

We were walking north now, with the mountain on our left. Belle Donne said, “When I first moved here three months ago, I devised a clever way to learn the names of the streets. All the streets named after letters run north to south and they are flat as pancakes. It is the crossroads that give you trouble. They are real steep and their names are not as easy to remember as ABC. So I made up a sentence using the first letters of each: Carson Mills Silver Under Trees Some Where. That stands for Carson Street, Mill Street, Sutton, Union, Taylor, Smith and Washington.”

I said, “Carson Mills Silver Under Trees Some Where. That is clever. What is that street up ahead?”

Belle said, “That is Mill Street. We will turn up it & then double back to my place on D Street. My crib is not far as the crow flies, but as you see, Chinatown and the steepness of the cliff and the lumberyard along with the tailings of the mines and so forth means there are no cross streets here.”

She was right. I could see the next street up above us, but no easy way of getting there.

“What are you doing here in Virginia, P.K.?” said Belle Donne as we walked along.

I felt dizzy, so I took a breath & said, “Some desperados disguised as Indians just murdered my foster parents. They are after me. I only escaped because I am dressed like an Indian, too. I do not think they were expecting that.”

“Oh.” She pressed her fingers to the base of her throat & stopped walking. “Why did they kill your foster parents? And why are they after you?”

We had stopped outside a laundry. The sign had some Chinese writing & below it:
HONG WO, WASHER.
There was a boy about my age or a little older standing in the front yard. He had his back to us & he was pegging up sheets. He wore a faded blue collarless shirt & loose blue trousers & a dusty black skullcap. He had a long black pigtail.

Belle looked at me & I looked at her.

I said, “I am not sure if I can trust you. The stagecoach let us off on C Street and you live on D Street, so why are you down here on F Street? I reckon you followed me.”

Belle laughed. “The reason I came down here was to pick up some washing from Mr. Yup, but it was not quite ready. Then I saw you about to taste that poisonous water and thought it was my Christian duty to help.” She smiled and fanned herself. “So tell me why those men are after you.”

Her smile was so pretty that I reckoned it was Expression No. 1: a Genuine Smile.

“I think they want this,” I said. I pulled out my medicine bag & took out the Letter & handed it to her.

She took it & opened it but frowned when she saw it. “Do I look like a schoolmarm?”

I thought of Miss Marlowe in Dayton, who always wears dark colors with long sleeves and a buttoned-up neck. “No, ma'am,” I said. “You do not look like a schoolmarm.”

She sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. “I cannot read fancy writing like that. Please read it to me.”

I read it to her.

“Why, P.K.,” said Belle Donne when I finished, “I believe that Letter is a kind of Last Will & Testament. I have never heard of Pleasant Town or Sun Peak but it might refer to land hereabouts, because it names the Divide.”

“What is the Divide?” I asked.

Belle pointed with her fan. “It is that there hump in the mountainside we just came over, that had our horses straining so. It lies between Virginia and Gold Hill.”

I said, “Do you think I could get money for this Letter?” I noticed that the Chinese boy had stopped pegging up sheets & was watching us.

“I am sure of it,” she said. Her eyes were real bright. “If desperados want it badly enough to kill for it, why then it is probably worth a thousand dollars at least. You should take it to the Recorder's Office and show it to them. Or perhaps a Lawyer.”

I said, “Lawyers are the Devil's Own. I will not have anything to do with them.” I folded up the Letter & put it back in my medicine bag. “Where is the Recorder's Office?”

“There is one up on A Street near Sutton across from the Newspaper. I believe there is also one in Gold Hill, on the other side of the Divide.”

I said, “A Street near Sutton.” Then I repeated, “Carson Mills Silver Under Trees Some Where.”

Belle Donne was looking back along F Street, the way we had come. Her eyes were wide & she was pressing her fingers to the base of her throat again.

“P.K.,” she said. “How many desperados dressed as Indians are after you and that Letter?”

“Three,” I said.

“Riding two horses and a mule?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Get behind me, P.K. They are coming this way.”

Ledger Sheet 9

WALT & HIS TWO PARDS
were riding slowly down F Street, looking left and right.

They did not look excited nor had they spurred their mounts to a gallop, so I judged they had not seen me. But any moment they would. I desperately looked around for a place to hide.

“P.K.,” said Belle Donne. “Climb under my skirt.”

It was a strange request but I saw immediately that she was right. Unless one of the Celestials would instantly give me shelter, the only place to hide was under her big hoopskirt. Quick as a telegram, I darted underneath it.

It was like being in a pink tent with two slender legs instead of a tent pole. Belle Donne was wearing ruffled white bloomers & white stockings & dusty black ankle boots with about a dozen hooked buttons on each side. It was cool under there, but also dusty. I felt my nose prickle.

I crouched down under there and waited. My mouth was dry. I could feel the mountain thumping & I could hear a donkey braying & some Celestials arguing in Chinese. I heard some quail in the sage. They were crying, “Chicago! Chicago!” the way they do. Then I heard the clop of horses getting nearer. Then the clopping stopped & I heard the jingle of a bridle & Walt's voice saying, “Excuse me, ma'am, but did you just get off the stage from Como?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

The dust under Belle Donne's hoopskirt was making my nose prickle real bad. I stifled a sneeze by pinching my nostrils shut.

“Do you remember,” said Walt, “was there a boy on board? About twelve years old? Only he run away from Temperance and his relatives have sent us to fetch him back.”

“I'm sorry,” said Miss Donne. “But I do not recall seeing a boy on board.”

I did not know it then, but the air in Virginia is real thin & when you first arrive you can feel sick & dizzy. I was feeling its effects just then & the ground started to tip to one side. To steady myself, I let go of my nose and grabbed hold of Belle Donne's knees.

“Oooh!” said Belle Donne.

“Are you all right, ma'am?” said Walt's voice.

“Yes,” said Belle Donne. “Yes, I believe it is only a flea in my corset. It made me jump.”

“I would be happy to fetch it out for you,” said Raspy Voice.

I was still clinging to Belle's legs & I felt them trembling.

“Not now, Dub,” said Walt. “We got other fish to fry.”

I heard the creak of a saddle & the soft slurring sound of horses' hooves in the dust as they turned to go.

Then I did the worst possible thing: I sneezed violently.

There was a pause & then a flood of light & Belle's voice saying, “Run for it, P.K.! Run!”

My eyes were dazzled by the sunlight after the pink gloom of Belle's skirt, and I only caught a quick glimpse of three men looking down at us from their mounts. I could not see their features, just that they were wearing hats and long duster coats. Then I felt Belle grasp my hand and pull me past the openmouthed Chinese boy towards an alley between two washhouses.

I do not like people to touch me but this time I did not protest. I followed her through hanging sheets that wetly slapped our faces. I let go of her hand as we plunged into the alley. The walls of the huts on either side were so close to each other that they shmooshed her skirt and I had to follow three feet behind. Belle led me this way and that, through a maze of alleys & between more wet sheets with the smell of lye very strong & the Celestials staring at us as we passed.

“Here,” she said breathlessly. “In here!”

She pulled me into a washhouse full of big wooden vats of sudsy water & more staring Celestials & back out into an alley. She looked around frantically, then pulled me through a door with only a curtain across it. We found ourselves in a hot and steamy shack that smelled of starch. There were maybe five Chinese men standing behind tables with flat irons sending up clouds of steam. They looked up at us with puffy chipmunk cheeks as we came in, then went back to their ironing as if there was nothing strange about a Soiled Dove and an Indian Youth barging into their workhouse. There were two small wooden tables in the center of the room. These were piled high with clean sheets waiting to be ironed. Some of the sheets were falling down around the table legs. Belle ran to one of the tables and tugged the sheets further down to make a kind of tent.

When I went to join her she pushed me away.

“You go under that one,” she said. “There ain't room for both of us under mine.”

So I went under the other table and pulled some of my sheets down to hide me from view. When I was satisfied that nobody coming in would suspect my hiding place, I parted two of my hanging sheets and peeped out. The door we had come through was only covered by a cloth curtain, which occasionally swelled to let out steam from the room and then subsided again.

Watching the Celestials at work, I understood why they had bulging cheeks. It was because their mouths were full of water. They would expertly squirt this water from their mouths onto the sheets & then slam down their flat irons to make hissing clouds of starchy steam billow up.

Over at Belle's table, I could see her pink hoopskirt sticking out from under the sheets she had draped to hide her from sight. But whenever she pulled it in on one side it would pop out the other. When I heard the menacing jingle of spurred boots coming closer & closer, I began to worry.

My heart nearly stopped when the cloth over the door was wrenched aside & the steam parted to show a man in a black slouch hat and biscuit-colored duster.

I knew it was Walt or one of his men.

He glared around and just at that moment some of Belle's hoopskirt popped out from under the sheets.

“There you are!” cried Whiny Voice & his spurs jangled as he strode towards her with purpose & intent.