The Killing Season (63 page)

“If you wish to dine or gamble for table stakes, sir, it's the first floor. The high-stakes tables are upstairs, and so are the pretty girls.”

“I'll go upstairs,” said Nathan.

He had long been familiar with the “Pretty Girl Saloons.” The women wore nothing, or close to it, catering to high rollers, their purpose being to take a man's mind off how much and how often he lost. The upstairs could only be described as plush. There was deep carpet on the floor, dusty rose, to match the drapes. The chairs had upholstered seats and backs, the fabric an elegant gray. The long bar and the tables were mahogany. The “pretty girls” went from table to table, laughing as they avoided groping hands. They wore pink slippers, pink bows in their hair, and a short pink jacket that covered only their shoulders and their arms to the elbow. The rest was bare. Nathan vowed to keep his mind on his cards, and for a while, managed to do so. But all his good intentions went to hell on greased skids when he looked up and found a near-naked Melanie Gavin staring at him in openmouthed surprise.

“This is a hell of a long ways from Ohio,” said Nathan.

“I got as far as Kansas City,” she said, “and I just couldn't go through with it. There was no kin in Ohio except Mother's snooty old maid sister. Life with her would have been hell.”

“I don't see you wearing wings and a halo now,” said Nathan. “In fact, I don't see you wearing much of anything.”

“I have money in the bank,” she snapped. “Would you prefer that I hire myself out as a drudge, for two dollars a week?”

“I'd prefer that you didn't prance around naked in a saloon,” said Nathan, “if I had any say in the matter.”

“Since before I was old enough to know my behind from my big toe, I've always had somebody telling me what to do or what not to do. There was mother, then Clell Shanklin, and then eventually, you. I don't expect you to understand, but it's important to me that I have control of my life, that I do what I want to do. Even if it means prancing naked in a saloon.”

“I never tried to tell you what to do,” Nathan said, “and I don't aim to start now. I may not agree with what you're doing, but I respect your right to do it.”

“Do you honestly mean that?”

“I mean it,” said Nathan. “How late are you here?”

“I get off at midnight. I have a room in a boardinghouse, three blocks from here.”

“I'll walk you there,” Nathan said. “Until then, I'll try my luck at the tables.”

Nathan saw her just briefly the rest of the evening. In a Pretty Girl Saloon, it was bad for business, having a girl seem partial toward one man, and it encouraged familiarity. Nathan paid close attention to his cards and those of the other gamblers because they were playing five-card stud. The bets were ten dollars, and when Nathan folded, he was ahead two hundred dollars. The rest of the gamblers hardly noticed him leaving, and he waited downstairs for Melanie. She came down the stairs wearing a stylish long dress, but before they could depart, the barkeep waved her over. She spoke to him briefly, joined Nathan, and they left.

“What was that all about?” Nathan asked. “He looked at me like he thought I was about to drag you off and have my way with you.”

“Well, aren't you?”

“I reckon,” said Nathan.

She laughed. “The barmen have been told to watch out for the girls. They question us if somebody meets us there. An occasional gambler will follow us outside and try to buy what he saw upstairs.”

“As I see it,” Nathan said, “that's one of the problems with these naked girl saloons. Men get the wrong impression. They reckon if a girl's willing to show it, she's willing to sell it.”

“It's not that way,” said Melanie. “It's a look-but-don't-touch game, and any man wanting more than that belongs in a whorehouse. We're a pleasant distraction, keeping a man's mind off how much he's lost at the table. Most of our gamblers are well-to-do and won't miss the money, but you'd be surprised at how tight some of them are.”

Nathan spent two days in Denver. Despite Melanie's questionable means of earning her living, he still enjoyed being with her, and when he finally rode away, it was with a standing invitation to return. After the initial shock of finding her in a Pretty Girl Saloon, he actually felt better about her. He had to admit that, in going into the saloon instead of the home of a stuffy old aunt, she had likely made the better of the two choices.

Nathan went first to the railroad depot and found Foster Hagerman in his office.“If you're looking for your old job,” said Hagerman, “you're out of luck. By God, this Harley Stafford is somethin' else.”

“That's why I sent him to you,” Nathan replied. “I'm good, and he's better than me. Where am I likely to find him?”

“In Pueblo,” said Hagerman. “Won't be back for a couple of days. But Vivian's at the Dodge House, and I reckon that's why you're here.”

“Not entirely,” Nathan said. “I just got a bellyful of Dakota Territory.”

“Good,” said Hagerman. “I know you'll want to meet our new sheriff. He's a young gent name of Wyatt Earp.”

“I missed you terribly,” Vivian said, when Nathan reached the Dodge House. “I just can't begin to tell you how much this means to Harley, and he'll be as glad to see you as I am. How long are you going to be here?”

“I haven't decided,” said Nathan. “After you and Harley left Deadwood, everything just went to hell. I guess you've heard about Wild Bill.”

“Yes,” she said, “and I'm sorry. I'm so thankful you helped Harley get out of there, and I'm just as thankful you got out. You're not going back, are you?”

“My God, no,” said Nathan. “Not unless we have to fight the Sioux and the government drafts me.”

They were in Vivian's room at the Dodge House, and Empty dozed beneath the only window. It was near suppertime.

“I'm going to take a room so I'll have a place to leave my saddlebags,” Nathan said, “and then we'll have supper at Delmonico's.”

“Leave them here,” said Vivian. “You don't need a room. We stayed together before we went to Deadwood, and nothing's changed.”

“Oh, but it has,” Nathan said. “Harley's here. I won't feel right, and there may be others who won't approve.”

“Damn the others,” she said. “Harley spends all his time with one of the girls from the Long Branch. I told him what I went through before I found you here in Dodge, and I promise you, you're welcome to anything he has or ever hopes to have.”

“And that includes you?”

“That includes me,” she said.

“Even if I ride off to Texas and you don't see me again for a year?”

“Even then,” she said. “I believe in life the way you helped Harley see it. He says you play the hand as it's dealt to you, and sometimes you win. It's when you do nothing, hoping your luck will change, that you lose it all.”

Nathan remained in Dodge until Harley returned, and for the week after. While he had expected some changes in Harley Stafford, he was amazed at the degree to which the man had changed in so short a time. He had gained weight and barely limped at all. Hagerman, recalling how helpful it had been to Nathan, had insisted that Harley learn Morse code.

“With my messed-up legs, I never expected to climb a telegraph pole,” Harley said, “but when I had to do it, I did.”

“Sometimes Hagerman's a hard man to work for,” said Nathan, “but he believes in paying a man who can put up with him.”

“He's paying me more in a month than I sometimes earned in a year,” Harley said.

 

Nathan continued his habit of reading the newspapers from Kansas City and St. Louis, and in mid-September, he found interesting stories in both papers. The James and Younger gangs, attempting to rob the bank in the little town of Northfield, Minnesota, had been met with a hail of lead. While Frank and Jesse had escaped, the Youngers hadn't been so fortunate. Bob Younger had been seriously wounded. He, his brothers James and Cole, and Charlie Pitts—a member of the James gang—had been captured.

Nathan, Harley, Vivian, and Foster Hagerman were at Delmonico's, having Sunday dinner, when Wyatt Earp, Dodge City's new lawman, came in.

“Mr. Earp,” said Hagerman, “this is Nathan Stone, one of the best security men the AT and SF ever had.”

Nathan responded to Earp's nod, and while the lawman's eyes lingered on Vivian, he ignored Harley. Without speaking a word, he moved on. Vivian looked uncomfortable, and Foster Hagerman had his eyes on his plate. Nathan judged Earp to be near thirty. Slender, wearing a dark suit, boiled shirt, and string tie, he looked impressive enough.

“Mr. Earp is a little self-conscious,” said Hagerman, when Earp had gone. “The town council insists on calling him a policeman. They believe the term ‘sheriff or ‘marshal' has us sounding like a frontier town, instead of the thriving city, which we obviously are.”

Nathan laughed at Hagerman's humor, but Harley and Vivian did not. Hagerman excused himself, and when he had gone, Nathan spoke.

“I get the feeling neither of you are fond of Mr. Earp, the new policeman.”

“He was here when we arrived in Dodge,” said Harley, “and he's never said howdy, go to hell, nothin'. But he's always got his eye on Vivian. Makes me wonder what he's up to, when I'm in Pueblo or Kansas City.”

“Harley,” Vivian said, “he's never bothered me. Besides, he's bound to know Nathan and me are ... more than just friends.”

“That's why I'm hoping you'll stay awhile, Nathan,” said Harley. “Earp looks like the kind who'll take the measure of things, and move on, if everything doesn't suit him.”

“I'd planned to stay a week or two,” Nathan said. “Then I aim to ride to south Texas. King Fisher, an amigo of mine, has a ranch near Uvalde, and I reckoned I'd spend Christmas with him.”

“Then take Vivian with you,” said Harley. “Mining in Colorado is booming, and for the next few months, I'll be riding the rails between Pueblo and Kansas City, away from Dodge more often than I'm here.”

“Harley,” Nathan said, “there are men on the frontier who just plain don't like me, and others hell-bent on proving they're faster with a gun than I am. Riding with me is to tempt fate. I reckon she's told you what happened in Nebraska, on our way to Deadwood.”

“Yes,” said Harley, “and that's why I'd not be afraid for her to ride anywhere with you. She's becoming a western woman, and I think the ride to Texas would help her along.”

“I may be gone for six months,” Nathan said.

“So may I,” Harley replied. “Vivian, speak up.”

“I'd like to go,” said Vivian, “and you won't need the sulfur salve.”

Nathan got Vivian a horse and saddle from the livery, and on September seventeenth, they rode south toward Fort Elliott, less than a day's ride. It was a carefree time, and with the dark days at Deadwood behind him, Nathan felt better than he had since leaving the McQueen place, in New Orleans. Empty was enjoying the open plains, bounding ahead. Once they were well away from Dodge, Vivian told Nathan what he had already suspected.

“Harley was right,” she said. “I was getting the fidgits, with Mr. Earp looking at me as though he had plans I didn't know about, but I couldn't say anything. Harley at last has a chance to make something of himself, to be his own man, and I won't have him throw it all away because of me. Anyway, it was reason enough for me to ride south with you.”

“Harley is a tolerant man,” said Nathan. “I feel better, him being with the railroad. He has access to the telegraph, and he can always reach us through the ranger outpost at San Antonio.”

“Your relationship with the rangers is impressive.”

“One of the best friends I ever had was a ranger,” Nathan said. “He was ambushed.”

“What became of the man who killed him?”

“He ran like the yellow coyote he was,” said Nathan, “but somebody tracked him to New Mexico Territory and gave him what he deserved.”

Vivian said nothing. She thought she knew who that “somebody” had been.

Captain Selman welcomed Nathan warmly, insisting that he and Vivian take an available cabin for the night. They ate with the enlisted men, and the soldiers made such a fuss over Vivian that she became embarrassed. Empty renewed his friendship with the cooks, and was rewarded accordingly.

Nathan and Vivian rode out after breakfast, bound for Fort Griffin. When they came to the saloon at Mobeetie, Nathan counted more than a dozen horses at the hitch rail. Two bearded men stood beside their horses, watching Nathan and Vivian ride past. When they stopped to rest the horses, Nathan studied their back trail, but saw nothing.