The Shopkeeper (13 page)
Authors: James D. Best
Tags: #Western stories, #Nevada, #Westerns, #Historical fiction, #Fiction
Keeping an eye on our periphery, I turned to Sharp. “Can you explain any of this?”
“Nope.” He glanced toward the house. “A mother scorned, I suppose.”
I maneuvered to the side of Chestnut and started rubbing his neck. “Guess the history doesn’t matter. Either of you gentlemen happen to be carrying a bag of silver?”
“I got three dollars in silver, maybe four if the grand lady will accept two-bit pieces,” Sharp said.
“Six,” McAllen added.
“That gives us about twelve,” I said. “Don’t suppose any of your men are riding heavy.”
“We’d be lucky to gather up another six,” McAllen said.
I looked around. “I could offer her men two dollars paper for every silver dollar.”
Sharp nudged one horse away from the trough to give another a chance at the water. “I doubt any of ’em’ll defy her.”
“Poker?”
“Never happen. Besides, the ranch hands probably don’t have twenty silver pieces between them.”
We fell silent until Sharp said, “Let’s take the horses over to the corral and unsaddle them.”
Rather than trying to eavesdrop, the Bolton hands casually moved to keep their distance. They watched, but they did not challenge. Sometimes a reputation with a gun can work to your advantage. We each led two horses over to the corral and silently went about our work.
When we stepped over to the fence to throw the saddles over the rail, Captain McAllen rested his back against one to signal that he had something to say. Once all three of us had taken a similar pose, he said, “Steve, our contract doesn’t include saving a damsel in distress.”
“We can amend it,” I offered.
“No. I can’t control this situation.”
“Must you?”
“Yes.” The abrupt answer told me that McAllen could not be induced with a sweetened pot of money.
I turned to Sharp. “Any ideas?”
“As much as I hate to leave her in this situation, I don’t see much alternative that doesn’t involve a lot of killing … and some of the dead will be in our party.”
“You don’t think she’s bluffing?”
“Nope. Not that woman.”
“I think I agree. At least it’s not worth the gamble.” I pushed myself away from the fence. “Well, let’s finish with the horses and get some chow. Maybe I’ll think of something.”
Chapter 23
We sat down on a bench alongside the cookhouse to eat our pork and beans and biscuits. I had kept an eye open but had not seen Jenny. The beans may have been nourishing, but I could barely find a trace of pork in the soupy concoction. Sharp’s men ate better.
I finished the meal in less than five minutes and then lazily wandered toward the bunkhouse with my empty tin plate in the hope of catching Jenny. As I approached the raw-lumber building, a cowhand placed his body in front of the open doorway. He pointed. “Just throw your plate in that bucket.”
“Fine meal. Thank you.”
“Thank Mrs. Bolton.”
“I will. Is Jenny inside?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“I’d like to offer her my condolences.”
“She don’t look to be grievin’. Besides, she’s busy.”
“It’ll only take a moment. I had business dealings with her husband.”
“You can see her after Mrs. Bolton gives the go-ahead.”
Obviously, I was not going to gain entry without a confrontation, so I flung my plate into the wooden bucket with a loud clank and turned toward the ranch house. As I turned, I noticed that a few men had spread out behind me, but McAllen and the others kept them in check with postures and expressions that told them to be careful. I felt a little more confident knowing someone watched my back.
I tried to figure out Mrs. Bolton’s motivation. It had to be more than personal animosity. My mind raced as I marched toward the ranch house, but I came up with no solution that did not involve gunplay. And I could not be sure McAllen and his men would back me up, damsels in distress being outside our contract and all.
“May I have a word?” I turned to see McAllen striding in my direction. I slowed my pace to let him catch up, but I did not quit walking. He put a hand on my elbow to stop my progress. “What are your intentions?”
“I’m going to see that fat witch.”
“Don’t rile these men.”
“I’m going to negotiate with her, not shoot her.”
“What if she won’t answer the door?”
I suddenly knew my strategy. “She’ll talk to me.”
McAllen looked at me a long moment and then said, “My obligations go only so far.”
“I understand. There’ll be no trouble.”
With no further comment, McAllen walked away, but he still made a show of pointing to his men and giving them some type of hand signal. The Pinkertons casually moved to all points of the compass. His obligations may have gone only so far, but he seemed to be still on the job. On second thought, he may have been concerned only about the safety of his own men in case I had misled him about not causing trouble.
As I approached the house, a ranch hand armed with a rifle got up from a chair and stood in front of the door. Without stepping up to the porch, I said, “Tell Mrs. Bolton she needs to talk to me if she wants to retain ownership of this ranch.”
“She asked not to be disturbed.”
“Disturb her. This is not about Jenny. It’s about business I had with her son.”
He looked puzzled but turned and entered the house without knocking. After a few minutes, he returned and waved me in with his rifle. “I’m to accompany you.”
Without comment, I mounted the steps and entered the house. Her man walked so close behind me that I thought he was going to poke me in the back with his rifle barrel. I hesitated in the central hall, and he said, “To the left.”
The sitting room was obviously decorated by a woman. The flowery fabrics were accented with more knickknacks than could comfortably fit on the flat surfaces. Mrs. Bolton sat in an overstuffed easy chair, holding a china teacup and saucer with both hands. Her bulk seemed to overwhelm the dainty room. She took a purposeful sip and then indicated a straight-backed ladder chair to her right.
I sat with the full knowledge that no refreshment would be offered. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Get to your business. My hands have work to do.”
I bet that she was highly displeased that her men had just stood around looking threatening since our arrival. “I apologize for the intrusion, ma’am. We’ll be on our way soon.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the rifle-bearing overseer. “Do you have complete confidence in this man?”
Holding the teacup by the saucer, she ordered. “Speak your mind.”
“I want to talk about John’s last will and testament.”
The rattle of the cup in the saucer told me I had hit the mark. “What will?”
“John filed a will in Carson City leaving his possessions to Jenny.”
Another rattle. “This was my husband’s homestead. I built this ranch while John played politics in Carson City. That bitch ain’t taking it away from me.”
“She has the law on her side.” I shrugged. “John seems to have been smitten with the girl.”
She waved her man away and did not speak again until after she heard the front door close. “I don’t believe you.”
“That he was smitten or that there’s a will?”
She set her teacup down on a doily-covered side table. “My son and I had words about that little harlot, but I don’t believe he’d spite me like this. I’m his
mother
for
Christ’s sake.”
“Lust drives men to do foolish things. You know that John considered Jenny his most prized possession.”
“Possession, not heir,” she threw the words back at me like they were bullets.
“Nonetheless, he decided to bequeath everything to her. Perhaps his anger with you was greater than you knew.”
“Oh, I knew. That slut ruined my life.” She grew quiet, and I could see her mind working. “You said you could save the ranch for me.”
“For a price.”
“Spit it out.”
“I’ll trade you John’s last will and testament for Jenny and some money.”
“How much money?”
“Don’t know yet. Depends on how much I need to bribe the lawyer. He’ll be breaking the law, so I don’t suppose it’ll come cheap … probably about a thousand dollars for him and another thousand for my troubles.”
“If you want Jenny so bad, you cover the bribe.”
“I don’t want Jenny; I just want to see her clear of this place.”
“You’re a liar. You want her to come with you, and you don’t want no ranch weighing her down.”
I decided her accusation worked to my advantage, so I let it go. “Let me make this clear: I do the work; you pay. But it’s got to be done fast, before the will gets filed in front of a judge in Carson City.”
She thought about it a minute. “You bring me a last will and testament with my son’s signature, like you say, and I’ll pay one thousand dollars. You cover anything more.”
I pretended to think a minute. “One other condition: you bring Jenny back into the house until my return.”
“I figured that, but if you’re lying, Jenny will regret the day she was born.”
“Have the thousand dollars ready on my return in a couple of days.” I waited a couple of beats. “I won’t insist on silver.”
She suddenly looked smug. “I’ll write a draft against your own bank.”
“No.” I couldn’t let her get the upper hand. “On second thought, give me a draft now against your son’s Carson City bank. I’ll need it for the lawyer.”
For some reason, my request caused her to laugh uproariously. When she quieted, she said, “You’ve got to be mad if you think I’d trust a thousand dollars in your hands before I get the will.” She smiled and picked up her tea again. “The draft will be against your bank and only after you bring me the will … or no deal.”
Knowing she had to believe she outfoxed me, I said, “Agreed. Now I want to see Jenny.”
“Why?”
“I want her to know about our arrangement.”
“She’s not to know about the will.”
“I’ll just tell her I’m conducting some business for you.”
“’Fraid I’ll throw her back in the bunkhouse as soon as you leave?”
“Yes.”
This incited another laughing spell. “Very well. Tell my man to fetch her.”
Chapter 24
I rose from my chair as Jenny entered the room and almost gasped. She wore a filthy calico dress with a torn collar that showed sweat stains, and her matted hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. She wore no shoes, and it appeared from the drape of her dress that she also wore no underclothing. She did wear a pained expression caused by the tight grip on her upper arm.
I caught the eye of Mrs. Bolton’s man and said, “Let her go.”
The man shifted his gaze to Mrs. Bolton and evidently received a signal, because he let go of her. As Jenny rubbed her arm, her pained expression was replaced with a look of defiance.
“You may go,” Mrs. Bolton said, and the man backed out of the room.
Since there were no other chairs close by, I stood and said, “Please take a seat.”
Jenny straightened her posture and said, “I’d rather stand.”
I was not going to argue, so I remained standing as well. “Mrs. Bolton has some business she would like me to conduct for her in Carson City. I agreed on the condition that you are allowed back into the house.”
Jenny shifted her gaze from me to Mrs. Bolton. “No, thank you. The company’s better in the bunkhouse.”
Her answer shocked me. “No one will bother you here.”
“No one bothers me none in the bunkhouse.” She lifted her chin and threw a nasty stare at both of us. “I get along just fine with the hands.”
Mrs. Bolton started laughing again. “My dear, I’m heartened to hear that you get on so well with the boys.”
Jenny took a half-step toward Mrs. Bolton and checked herself. I was caught between two hellions determined to give no quarter. What a history this house must have witnessed. Now I understood why Bolton took Jenny with him whenever he left the ranch—not only for her company but to shield her from his mother’s talons. If he had left her at the ranch, there was no telling what he would have found on his return.
I racked my brain to think of a way to negotiate a truce, but I could think of nothing that would move either of the women. Finally, I turned to Mrs. Bolton and asked, “May I see Jenny alone?”
“You may not,” Mrs. Bolton said.
Jenny turned a scornful look at me. “Have you come to rescue me?” She used a mocking tone that made me feel stupid.
