Kaitlin's Silver Lining (7 page)

Seven

James watched his
employer, Farley Kaufmann, pace the confines of his office like a caged bear.
Anger vibrated off the man’s shoulders and permeated the room. Farley stalked
from one end of the room to the other, floorboards groaning beneath Farley’s
weight.

He stopped abruptly
and glared at James. “I want those women stopped. I don’t care how you do it,
but I won’t be made a laughingstock. Confound it, James, what would the men do
with their free time if they didn’t have saloons and gaming houses?”

James relaxed in a
winged chair and observed his employer’s tirade. The man displayed a temper the
size of Texas and the common sense of a mouse. He figured Farley liked to rave
and rant just to hear himself talk. If Farley weren’t blackmailing him into
cooperating, he’d have long since gone. On the other hand, Farley Kaufmann paid
his minions well, and they did have a mutual goal.

“I don’t think your
business partner will side with you on this. Jack says the ladies will
eventually tire of this game, and their antics will fade into a distant
memory.” His own source told him the same thing. He smiled, thinking of his
Little Em. She’d braved many escapades to please him, including spying on
Kaitlin’s ladies.

Beady eyes flattened
to slits of anger, and Farley pointed a beefy finger. “I pay you good money to
see things go my way. I don’t pay you to comment on Jack’s opinion. He’s just an
investor. He’s not my partner, and he has no say in how I run my businesses.”

“I think you’re
making a gully-washer out of a little rain shower. Ignore Miss Kanatzer and her
band of temperance followers. The German community is too large and influential
to allow these women a stronghold.” James just couldn’t see a handful of women
making a difference. Besides, he enjoyed seeing Kaitlin flounder about. “Let
them blither about our saloons and our breweries. Their influence is about as
detrimental as an army of gnats.”

“You underestimate
these women, James. They’re gaining followers. They won’t win anytime soon. It
may even take years, but they will eventually gain enough support to put a
serious dent in our business.”

James laughed. “So
now you’re a fortune teller?”

“Make light of it if
you want.” Farley paced the small confines. “Those women are determined.
They’ll have their vote, and then they’ll close down our drinking
establishments.”

“Let’s say for the
sake of argument you’re right, what you did the other afternoon to those women
played right into their hands.” James shook his head. Farley had no idea how to
handle the situation without making things worse.

“Me?” Farley raised a
brow. “You were the one that overturned that barrel of molasses.”

“At your insistence.
And the men all heard you give the order.” James shrugged. “Several of our
regular patrons objected strongly to the abusive handling of Miss Kanatzer and
her followers. On the other hand, it was rather fun seeing her waddle about in
all that muck.”

Farley sighed and
rubbed his chin. “I admit my burst of temper got the better of me, but those
women had it coming. Perhaps you’re right. I should have been a bit more
discreet so the blame would have been solely on your head and not mine.” He
paused, grinning. “But just as many were quite amused by the debacle.”

“Next time, we’ll
both show more restraint.” While he’d enjoyed seeing Kaitlin get her
comeuppance, he had a better understanding of the long-term effects of Farley’s
childish retaliation. “You pay me to handle problems, but you also pay me for
advice. Your actions the other day may have cost you votes. There are quite a
few men sympathetic to women’s rights, and they won’t stand by and watch while
you degrade and humiliate the force behind this movement.”

“Then we’ll try other
tactics. Since you seem to have all the answers, you take care of it. I want
these marches against my saloons stopped. It’s one thing for them to target a
well established bar, but we open the Thirsty Sailor tonight, and I don’t want
a scene to mar its grand opening.”

“And the other
matter? Do you still want me to pursue it?”

Farley narrowed his
eyes so thin, they were almost lost in the folds of his pudgy face. “More than
ever. She has something I want, need. Running for office will deplete my
funds.”

“Taking care of this
matter will likely take care of the suffragists as well,” James replied, his
thin lips grinning in a conniving way. The thumb of his left hand played
absently with the gold band encircling his pinky finger. The subconscious habit
helped solidify his thoughts.

“The election for
governor is coming up, and I want that spot. You said it yourself. A lot of men
are sympathetic to these women. We need to turn their attentions from suffrage
by discrediting the women behind the movement.”

James listened with
half an ear as Farley explained what he wanted done. For an educated pillar of
society, Farley Kaufmann’s stupidity had a way of slipping through the cracks
of his intellect. From James’s viewpoint, Farley’s plan was doomed to failure
before it even started. Shaking his head, he retrieved paper and pen. Ink
flowed freely as he penned the note he would see delivered the next day. He
would allow Farley’s plan to go through, but he had plans of his own, plans
that would get the desired results much faster. For Farley it was all about
money. For James, it was personal.

Eight

Wet, warm, silky. The
sensation slid down his throat, stroking his bruised ego with tantalizing
fingers. The bucking finale hit the center of his belly, obliterating the
disappointment of finding Emma engaged. He slammed the glass down and wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand.

“A good shot of
whiskey is like a woman’s sweet body. It wraps you in heat and explodes in your
insides like a thousand bucking broncs.” Bryce raised his glass high and
toasted the painting of a full-figured nude hanging behind the bar. He smiled,
pleased with his metaphorical comparison.

“Here’s to whiskey.
She’ll always be true and less likely to kick you where it really hurts.” A man
beside him tossed down another shot.

Bryce chuckled. He
wasn’t drunk. Yet. He had another half bottle to go before that lethargic state
would render him unconscious. A buxom barmaid sidled up to him, picked up his
bottle, and poured him another drink. Her seductive expression should have
soothed his heart, but he only felt disgust. He turned away from the
invitation. “Ain’t in the mood, sweetheart. This here bottle is the only thing
I want seducing me tonight. It’s less complicated that way.”

She shrugged. “Suit
yourself, cowboy. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

The man next to him
elbowed him with good-natured intent. “Woe. Wish a looker like that would rub
up to my ugly carcass. That’s the third offer you’ve had this evening. What’s
your secret?”

Bryce raised one
brow. “Forlorn hurt.”

“Excuse me?”

“Women can’t stand to
see a man they think is hurtin’, especially if they think he’s hurtin’ from a
broken heart.”

“And are you?”

“I reckon.” Bryce
stared into his glass. Was he? Did his heart ache or was it his ego? He’d
suffered acute embarrassment for getting all gussied up like a king of hearts
and didn’t much like making a fool of himself. It was one thing to be spurned
by Emma, but to have the rejection witnessed by her current beau chafed at his
insides. It fair put him in his place and deflated his confidence just a mite.

He nudged the man.
“Name’s Bryce, and you’re...?”

“Harvey.”

“Well Harvey, let’s
drink a toast to...”

“To spending a few
hours away from nagging women and—and thankless jobs.”

They both raised
their glasses high but were interrupted by the advancing noise of protesters.

“Raise your voice
high, my friends, and oppose the evilness that lurks within. Strong liquor by
the bottle or glasses will drain your purses, leaving you poor and flat out on
your asses!”

The loud chant grew
closer, breaking into Bryce’s troubled thoughts. Slightly tipsy, but far from
drunk, he wove his way to the swinging door. Others crowded forward to see what
ruckus disturbed their entertainment. He peered over their shoulders and
grunted. Was that Maggie and Kaitlin in the front of a parade of women?

“Hey look, boys. It’s
them suffragists. Let’s offer ’em a drink and invite ’em inside.”

Laughter rang out
amidst the patrons at the Thirsty Sailor Saloon. Bryce chuckled and shook his
head. Those two sure knew how to stir up trouble. “Damn fool women. What do
they think they’re doin’?”

“I dunno, but that’s
my wife in the back, and she’s gonna skin me alive when she finds me here.”
Harvey’s gaze searched frantically for an exit. “Think there’s a back way out?”

“Harvey! Ain’t that
your wife?” bellowed another patron to the man who’d just spoken. Harvey made
shushing motions with his hands, but no one heeded him.

“Harvey! Harvey is
that you? I know you’re in there, you drunk skunk. You get your skinny rump out
here ’fore I drag it out!” A very petite woman marched to the front of the
picketing women and peered over the assembled men standing just inside the
door. Harvey ducked low, trying to hide from his wife. She yanked open the
swinging doors. Men scattered. Harvey stood quaking before this tiny version of
womanhood, the situation made more amusing by his rotund size.

“Hello, dear.”

The men erupted into
guffaws of laughter at his meek reply.

“Harvey, how could
you? You know how I feel about these places.”

“Aw, Sally. It ain’t
what you think. I was just helping break the place in. It’s their grand
opening, and Ben wanted me to come celebrate.”

“Ben?” Another woman
stepped into the bar and searched in earnest for her delinquent husband.

The man beside Bryce
gave him a nudge. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve gotta go. If I don’t
side with my wife on this issue, I won’t eat for a month.” Slowly, others saw
the wisdom in these words. One by one, the crowded saloon began to clear,
leaving only the men who weren’t tied to an apron string.

Bryce chuckled. The
entire affair resembled a comedy of errors. He sauntered back to the bar and
downed another shot. He would need the fortification for the lecture he
expected to receive from Kaitlin when she learned of his presence. He laughed
again, enjoying the irony of the moment.

“Makes you wanna
puke.” One of the bartenders, a large black man, moved to stand across the bar
from Bryce and leaned his elbows on the bar.

“What?”

“The noise them
infernal women is makin’. It’s drivin’ me to drink, but unfortunately I’m on
duty. Name’s Jack. Jack Brewster. Don’t recall seeing you around here before.”

The chanting and
singing erupted in earnest, making it difficult for the folks inside to relax
and enjoy their free time. He understood now why Kaitlin had been doused in
molasses that first day. If he had a barrel right now, he’d douse her himself.

“Bryce Stanton. Just
got in a couple of days ago.”

“Vistin’ then?”

“Yep.” Bryce didn’t
feel like elaborating.

A bottle appeared
next to him, and he glanced up. On the other side of him, Farley Kaufmann
poured a fresh glass. Farley lifted the glass high when he finished. “Here’s to
a successful first night at the Thirsty Sailor. Jade, come keep these boys
company.”

A buxom young woman
in a short cancan dress and a feather boa around her neck looped an arm around
Bryce’s. The calico queen made no secret as to her after-hour services. “You
want help celebrating, cowboy?”

He gave her a
sideways glance. “I’d love to take you up on the offer, but the way my luck is
goin’, you’re better off findin’ another customer.”

She pouted. “You
sure?”

“Does a desert have
sand?”

She laughed, ran her
boa against his cheek, and went in search of another fella to pester. Bryce
smiled. He’d never been much on paying for services he could usually get for
free.

Bryce lifted his
glass. “To the paradox known as women.”

“To a pleasant
evening. May it bury the lot of them in snow drifts outside,” Jack added.

“I’ll drink to that,”
Bryce said.

“At least I don’t
have to go home to that racket.” Farley filled his glass again.

“And what’s that
supposed to mean?” Bryce snapped.

“You tell me. You’re
the one living with Kanatzer.” Farley set the bottle down with a thud.

“You’re living with
that termagant? She’s your woman, and you’re letting her get away with these
shenanigans?” Jack gave him an incredulous look. The bartender stopped cleaning
glasses to stare at him.

Bryce shifted his
weight. “Back where I come from, black folks tend to hold their tongues.”

Jack laughed, clearly
not offended by Bryce’s sarcasm. “Yessir, but this here’s a whole new world. I
got me a prime spot of real estate, and I’m building a fancy hotel there. Gold
tends to equalize men, gives them a dose of respectability. Colorado folk seem
more accepting, less prejudiced. I’m doing right fine for myself, so it’s a
good thing I ain’t back where you’re from.”

“Jack’s one of our
more outstanding citizens. In fact, he and I are part owners in this saloon,”
Farley said with a tone that clearly said he’d been offended by Bryce’s remark.
“You, on the other hand, are just visiting. You don’t have any roots here,
which doesn’t give you much say in matters.”

Bryce knew when to
back down. He hadn’t meant anything by the comment. Personally, he had nothing
against blacks, and he’d discovered a great respect for Maggie since coming to
know her. The Double S employed three of the best black wranglers he’d ever
come across. He’d rather keep company with them than some of the white folk
he’d run into lately. He just didn’t like what Jack had said about Kaitlin and
Maggie.

“Quit snappin’ at
me.” Bryce rested his elbows on the bar. “Turtles got more bite than the two of
you. I’m just tryin’ to wind down after a particularly tryin’ day, same as
everyone else in this place.”

“Well, it’d be a mite
more pleasant without those blasted suffragists screaming outside. You sure you
can’t do nothing to shut Kaitlin up? You must have some hold over the woman,
since you’re living with her.”

“I don’t think I like
what the two of you are implyin’ here.” The whiskey Bryce had just swallowed
suddenly tasted old and flat, its fire put out by a few careless remarks. He
already held a grudge against Farley for staking a claim on Emma. The man was
clearly sporting for a fight. Bryce pushed the glass aside.

“Not implying
anything, friend.” Farley pushed the bottle toward Jack. “I’m telling you
outright that you better shorten the reins on your girl before someone gets
hurt.”

“She’s not my girl.”
Bryce clenched his teeth. Kaitlin’s stern image swam before his face. He
grimaced. Everything about her was exactly what he didn’t want in a woman. She
was quarrelsome, rigid, and had the kinkiest brown hair he’d ever seen. He
liked his women blonde, soft-spoken, malleable, like Emma Hood had been. His
hand tightened into a fist. Farley would make a great target for his frustration.

The swinging doors
pushed open with a resounding bang. The picketers pushed their way through. At
the forefront marched Kaitlin, waving a wooden sign and singing loudly off-key.
Someone thrust a flag in front, waving enthusiastically for all to see. So much
for peaceable protest, Bryce thought.

“Look, Uncle Bryce.
Kaitlin let me hold the flag.” Charley’s soprano voice boomed above the noise
of their infernal suffrage anthem.

Bryce leapt from the
bar and grabbed the flag from Charley and pulled her behind him. He turned to
Kaitlin, his temper redirected. “What do you think you’re doin’?”

Kaitlin stopped
singing and lowered her sign. “Protesting.”

“I can see that.”
Anger made his blood boil. “Now, it’s my turn to protest. Charley has no
business bein’ in a saloon full of drunks and calico queens. You had no right
embroilin’ her in your fight.”

“Are you saying I
don’t know what’s best for my niece?”

“Damn straight.”

“It’s all right for
you to use foul language and drink, but I can’t show her the evilness of
alcohol?”

“We ain’t debatin’ my
morality here, Miss Kanatzer. We’re jawin’ about your lack of judgment.”

The saloon became
strangely quiet with the onset of their argument.

“Lordy. I don’t think
your woman likes being told what to do. No sir. She don’t like it at all.” Jack
said from behind the bar.

Kaitlin leaned
forward, and pointed a finger in Bryce’s face. “Morality is the only issue
here. You’re setting a bad example for this impressionable young lady. You
should be ashamed of yourself, drinking and carousing instead of coming home to
enjoy Charley’s company.”

From behind, someone
yelled out, “She needs another dose of molasses and oats.”

“Naw. She needs a
firm hand to her backside,” came more advice.

“Come on, ladies,”
Maggie instructed, holding another sign high. “Form a circle of support for our
leader.”

Bryce scanned the
assembled group. Some of the men looked uncomfortable, like they’d been caught
with their hands in the cookie jar. Others looked downright furious that their
private lair had been invaded. Bryce could see things turning ugly.

Dan Cochran and
several other police officers entered the building. The appearance of the
police made the women more testy. They began shouting their singsong chants,
drowning the voices of those who would put an end to their protest.

“Quiet! Let’s have
order here!” Dan’s booming voice sounded over the den of noise. Both parties
lowered their voices. Kaitlin and Farley approached Officer Cochran, both
sporting determined faces.

“I insist you put a
halt to this madness,” Farley said.

“Miss Kanatzer, this
behavior is getting out of hand. Shouldn’t you be home doing needlepoint or
baking cookies?”

“Don’t you dare
patronize me, Mr. Cochran. Our cause is just. I’m sure you can see we have a
moral obligation to put a stop to the serving of hard liquor.”