Rosanne Bittner (18 page)

Maggie walked to a front window in Kate’s parlor, pressing a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her damp forehead and neck. “I can’t believe it’s the middle of July already,” she commented. “Sage and I left at the end of May. We’ve ridden so far together. It was cold when we left, and now, it’s so hot.”

“Maggie, come sit back down, and stop worrying,” Kate insisted.

“I can’t help it. I don’t like this, Kate. Sage and Newell have been gone so long.” It did little good to keep staring out the front window. It was dark outside, and she couldn’t see beyond the light of a lantern on the front porch. “Sage should have taken me with him.”

“To the saloons and brothels? Sure. You’d fit right in.” Kate lit a cigar and threw her match into the nearby fireplace, its hearth unlit because of the heat. Maggie wondered at the sounds coming from the streets… distant piano music, occasionally, a woman’s shrieking laughter. She couldn’t help thinking about Sage once being a part of such wild activity. The sound of yet another gunshot made her flinch. “Every time I hear that I could scream.”

“Listen, Maggie, get it through your head that what’s going on in town is a life Sage knows well. Most up at this hour are a bunch of drunks being stupid. Sage knows how to watch his back, and he can handle the worst. You should know that by now. If John Polk shows up, by the time Sage is done with him, he and Newell will have all the information they need.” Kate leaned back in her rocking chair and picked up a jacket she’d promised to mend for one of her boarders. “There aren’t many men who can handle themselves better around that rabble than Sage can.” She laid the jacket in her lap and kept the cigar between her lips as she squinted to thread a needle.

Maggie turned from the window. If not for her anxiety, she thought how easy it would be to laugh at the picture of someone like Kate Bassett doing something as domestic as sewing, while at the same time, smoking a cigar. Kate was a wonderful cook—a contrast of character that was so common out here. “Tell me about Newell,” she asked Kate. “I need to talk about something besides Sage and what’s going on in town.”

Kate laid her cigar in an ashtray. She answered Maggie, while she finished threading the needle and searched for the ripped seam in the jacket she was mending. “Newell came here to get away from something, but he’s never told me what it is. Could be a woman, or maybe a robbery, or a murder. Out here, everybody comes from someplace else, and usually, it’s to hide or to start life over where the law and the government can’t do much to stop you.” She found the seam and began sewing. “Of course, that’s changing now. Lawyers, lawmen, and even the government are trying to make living out here like it is back east, but it will take a long time. Folks here like things the way they are.”

Maggie sat across from her, and Kate stopped her needlework for a moment. “Speaking of Newell, though, he’s a good man,” she told Maggie. “Oh, he likes to drink and gamble, but ninety-nine percent of the men out here do that.” She returned to her mending. “He used to visit the brothels, but he’s pretty much stopped that. The last couple of years it’s just been him and me. And he’s a good hired hand. I don’t think I could run this place without him.”

Maggie sipped hot chocolate Kate had made for her. “Do you think you’ll ever marry?”

Kate laughed, shaking her head. “People like us don’t marry. I’m too used up for that, and I can’t have kids. And Newell—he’s fifty. People our age, who’ve lived the kind of lives we’ve lived, don’t get married and have families. We’re comfortable with each other and know that as we get older, we’ll need to take care of each other.”

Maggie studied her, watched her finish sewing up the torn seam. “I’d call that love, Kate, wouldn’t you?”

Kate paused. If Maggie didn’t know better, she’d swear the woman was about to cry.

“Well, now, honey, I guess you could call it love.” She looked at Maggie and smiled rather sadly. “Love with no strings attached. That’s the only kind of love a man like Newell could handle.”

“Has he ever
said
he loves you?”

Kate chuckled. “No. And I’ve never said the word either. It’s something that’s there. We don’t need to say it.” She finished sewing the jacket.

“I have a feeling the only man you knew deep in your heart you loved was Sage,” Maggie suggested.

Kate gave her a wink. “Sure I did. No sense denying that.” She tied off and cut the thread, then studied her finished work. “I loved Sage for the same reasons you love him. He’s solid, trustworthy, protective, knows what he wants, and goes after it.” She looked straight at Maggie. “And God knows he’s easy to look at.”

Both women smiled.

“He’s flat out the handsomest man I ever set eyes on,” Maggie replied.

Kate nodded. “Me too, and I’ve come across a whole lot more men in my lifetime than you have, honey.” She sobered. “Sage has done some bad things, but he was an angry young man with no direction and a broken heart. What those supposed parents of his did back in San Francisco is unforgivable.” She set the jacket aside and reached over to pick up her cigar. “And you’re wondering about me, aren’t you? How I ended up an aging prostitute who will never marry.”

Maggie set her cup aside. “That’s not my business.”

Kate shrugged. “It’s natural to wonder. Somebody like you can’t understand this life, and I don’t blame you.” She smiled sadly, puffing on the cigar a couple of times before she continued. “I came out here much the same way you did, Maggie. I was young, stupid, and scared. I had no idea what this land was like before my parents and brother and I left by wagon train from Chicago.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

“That was such a long time ago,” she said absently, “but sometimes, it seems like yesterday.” She sighed. “We never made it to California. We were attacked by Indians. My whole family was killed. I was taken captive, and a savage claimed me for his wife. When I didn’t give him any kids, he passed me off to the single ones who wanted to learn about sex before they took their own young brides.”

Maggie closed her eyes against the horrid picture. “How awful.”

Kate waved her off, forcing herself to pretend it didn’t matter anymore. “Anyway, by the time they deserted me near a gold town, I was already pretty used up. I knew absolutely no one. I walked into that town, and the minute the men knew where I came from, I had no hope of finding a decent man who’d want me. I tried scrubbing clothes to survive, tried sewing, cooking—whatever I could. Then a gambler came along who suggested how rich I could get if I turned to prostitution and opened my own brothel. By then, I didn’t have much pride left, figured it wouldn’t make much difference what I did… sleeping with men and running a brothel was a whole lot easier than using a scrub board and sweating over a hot stove in the summer to feed a bunch of ungrateful no-accounts. The gambler was good to me, bought me a pretty dress, showed me how beautiful I could be—how I could use that beauty.”

She faced Maggie, her eyes misty. “We opened a brothel together. Later my gambler friend got shot over a card game, and I was on my own. My life was pretty well set for me, and I knew by then something was wrong that I’d never get pregnant, so I ended up running one of the fanciest whorehouses in town. That was in the Dakotas.” She shook her head at the memories. “Like most gold towns, it fast died when the gold ran out, so I started traveling with my girls. I’ve been all over the west and ended up here. I ran a brothel here too—saved enough money to try living a decent life for at least a few years before I die. So… here I am, running a boardinghouse.”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think I could have survived what you survived.”

Kate sighed. “Sure you could. You already have, from what I’ve learned about you. The only difference is you found Sage at just the right time. You’ll be able to live the life a decent woman is meant to live. And God has blessed you with the ability to have babies. I have a feeling you and Sage will have quite a big family, and I hope I live long enough to see all those kids.”

“First, he has to accept the baby I’m carrying.”

“Oh, he might stew about it for a while, but he’ll accept it.”

Someone knocked on the back door. Both women rose and hurried into the kitchen sure it was Sage and Newell. “I hope nothing is wrong,” Maggie said, worried as to why they would knock at the back door.

Kate opened the door, and Maggie gasped when two men barged in.

Jasper!
She turned to run, but the big man grabbed her from behind and planted a smelly hand over her mouth. He whirled her around in time to see Jimmy Hart slam the barrel of his gun over Kate’s head twice. Kate slumped to the floor. Jasper dragged Maggie out the door. She felt a stunning blow to the back of her head, and everything went black.

Sage threw in his hand and pulled a watch from his vest pocket to check the time.

Ten o’clock. He and Newell and Johnny Carpenter had searched all day for John Polk, but he was nowhere to be found. They’d checked with most of the businesses, sat on the boardwalk watching people, asked around at brothels and saloons, then stayed here at Chet’s Saloon the rest of the day, and now, into the night, hoping Polk would show up at his favorite drinking hole.

Sage feared the man had left the area after all. He might catch up with Jimmy Hart and Jasper and join forces with them. He figured he might as well head for Hole-In-The-Wall in the morning and take the chance he’d find all three men there. He glanced across the table at Newell. “I’ve about had enough of this card game and enough whiskey.”

“You thinkin’ of checkin’ out some other places again?”

Sage scooted back his chair. “Might as well. I’ve been sitting at this table so long I’m getting calluses on my elbows.” He gathered what money he had left and rose. “I’m out, boys.” He picked up his cigarette from an ashtray and took a couple more drags, then snuffed out the stub. Discarded peanut shells crunched under his boots as he walked to the bar where Johnny sat.

Newell got up and collected what was left of his money. “I’m out too, fellas.”

“Come back tomorrow night, Newell, and we’ll gladly take more of your money.” The words came from Rob Fisher, a man Newell had befriended since coming to Lander.

Newell grinned. “You were just lucky tonight.”

Rob guffawed as Newell joined Johnny and Sage at the bar. “That Polk fella had better show up before we’re too drunk to shoot straight,” he told Sage.

Sage rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “I was thinking the same.”

“Why not check the other saloons and the brothels again,” Johnny suggested.

“Yeah,” Newell put in. “Maybe Polk decided he needed a woman tonight more than he needed whiskey and cards. From what you and Kate have told me about his habit of beatin’ up whores, I can’t believe he ain’t been to see any here in town. And we both know he can get all the whiskey he wants at the brothels. Costs more than in the saloons, but it’s generally worth it.”

He winked, and all three men chuckled. Sage thought Johnny Carpenter seemed a good sort, more kid than man. He reminded Sage of himself at that age, a homeless young man who’d come to outlaw country at sixteen years old. In Johnny’s case, he was seeking safety and protection from his own alcoholic father who’d horribly abused him his whole life. That was two years ago. Johnny found refuge here… and a job with the blacksmith. He’d never gone back home, wherever home was. He never said.

“Sorry I wasn’t much help tonight,” Johnny told Sage. “I walked out a couple of times to check next door at the Silverheels Saloon. Last time I checked was about twenty minutes ago. Polk wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault he chose tonight not to show up,” Sage answered.

Johnny shrugged. “Maybe he saw you and decided to leave town after all… maybe join up with them other two.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” Sage answered, “and it worries me. Something doesn’t feel right about this whole thing. Let’s go check next door again and then head down the street to Sadie’s Saloon. She has whores upstairs. Maybe he’s there.”

“Fine with me,” Newell answered.

The three headed for the swinging entry door when a man stumbled inside with a young blond woman on his arm. Both were obviously drunk, and the woman’s low-cut dress hung nearly off the ends of her breasts.

“Shit, it’s Polk!” Johnny exclaimed.

Because of the heat, Polk wasn’t wearing his trademark black coat. He recognized Sage, but not in time. Before he could go for his gun, Sage grabbed him and flung him through the swinging saloon doors. He landed so hard in the street that it knocked the breath out of him. That gave Sage plenty of time to grab the man’s six-gun and fling it aside. In spite of Polk’s size, Sage jerked him up by the front of his shirt.

“We have something to discuss!” Sage growled.

“Who the hell are you?” the blond woman screamed. “You let go of him!”

“Shut up, Hilda!”

Sage recognized Newell’s voice.

“Go on back to Sadie’s place, and stay out of this!”

Hilda’s eyes widened with indignation, and she stormed away.

Sage dragged a dazed Polk to a watering trough and dunked him into it, holding him under the water long enough that he’d be disoriented and willing to talk by the time he let him up. He jerked him out of the water and slammed him to the ground, putting a knee in his groin while he held him down with one hand around his throat. Onlookers had gathered to watch. Johnny and Newell forced some back with guns drawn as a warning to stay out of the situation.

“You warned Jimmy Hart and Jasper that I was coming, didn’t you?” Sage demanded.

“Get off me,” Polk sputtered.

“You knew all of them, didn’t you? Cleve, Jasper and Jimmy Hart!”

“You’re… cuttin’ off… my air! You’re… killin’ me!”

“I
should
have killed you the last time we met! Now, answer my question!”

Polk squirmed to get away, and Sage backhanded him “Where did they go? Answer me, or I’ll gouge out your eyes!”

Blood trickled from the corner of Polk’s mouth. “I rode with them three… awhile back… hunted buffalo with them… but whatever reason you’re after them… I ain’t got nothin’ to do with it! I just… knew them once. When I saw you shoot Cleve back in Atlantic City… I figured I should warn the other two!”

Sage jerked him back to his feet, swiftly drawing his forty-five caliber and aiming it directly at Polk’s face. “You try to run, and I’ll blow your brains out! Did they tell you
why
I was looking for them?”

Polk looked around, guilt in his eyes. “Well, they… they said they took money from you… killed one of your hands.”

Sage pressed the revolver to the man’s forehead. “That’s it? They didn’t say anything about attacking a woman out on the plains and murdering her husband?”

Polk swallowed. “They might have, but abusin’ a woman ain’t somethin’ I look at exactly as a crime.”

Sage slammed his six-gun across the side of the man’s face. Polk spun around and collapsed to the ground. Blood poured from a cut near his temple as he looked at Sage and snarled. “You bastard! All I did was warn them! I didn’t have nothin’ to do with anything they did!”

“
I’m
the one you should have warned, you worthless son of a bitch! Tell me where they’re headed.”

Polk wiped at the blood on his face with a shaking hand. “They said somethin’ about goin’ up to Hole-In-The-Wall, but I don’t know if they did or not. You’d better watch your back, Indian,” he snarled. “They’re itchin’ to kill you to get you off their backs, and they talked about havin’ a time with that woman you’ve got with you.”

Sage struggled not to pull the trigger. “
You
told them I had a woman with me?”

Polk drew a deep breath. “I might have. Seemed like it might be of interest.”

“Yeah, you have a real
big
interest in women, don’t you, Polk? Figured maybe you’d join them and have your turn with her once they did me in, right?” Sage walked over and picked up Polk’s six-gun, then tossed it at the man’s feet. “Pick it up, Polk!”

Polk stiffened. “Now, wait a minute! I ain’t as good with a gun as you, and you know it!”

The crowd backed away. Johnny and Newell kept an eye on them, knowing Jimmy and Jasper could be anywhere. Just then a commotion arose across the street. Sage kept a steady aim on Polk as men began shouting.

“Kate! It’s Kate Bassett!”

“God damn, look at her!”

Polk’s eyes widened, and he backed up.

“What’s that all about, Polk?” Sage growled.

“I… I ain’t sure.”

“Newell, you’d better go see what’s happening,” Sage told the man, his eyes fixed on Polk.

“I’m already on it,” Newell answered, hurrying to three men carrying Kate. Newell recognized them as a couple of Kate’s houseguests.

“Where’s the doctor’s office?” one asked Newell.

“Up there, above the medicine store,” Newell told him. “Give her to me!” He took Kate into his arms. “What happened?”

“I found her this way, lying in the kitchen with her head bashed in,” the man answered. “That young woman who was staying there… she’s gone.”

Sage heard every word, and his gut wrenched with agony. Maggie! He had no doubt this was Jasper’s doing, and it was all because he’d been warned by the man standing in front of him. He walked closer to Polk, his six-gun only a couple of inches from his face. “You
knew
, didn’t you? You knew they were going to take her.”

Polk shook his head. “I swear, I didn’t!”

“You’re
lying
, Polk! Pick up your gun!”

“No!”

“Pick it up!” Sage roared. He put his own gun back in its holster. Polk hesitated, glanced at his six-gun on the ground. Then he made a dive for it. Sage waited until the gun was in his hand and cocked. Before the man could pull the trigger, Sage drew his own revolver and shot him between the eyes.

People gasped as Polk crumpled to the ground.

A saloon girl screamed and ran inside Chet’s Saloon.

Several followed her inside wary of the mood Sage was in.

Trembling with rage and dread, Sage turned to see Newell heading up the stairs to the doctor’s office with Kate in his arms. Sage felt responsible. He never should have got Kate involved in this mess, never should have left her and Maggie alone. Jasper or Jimmy must have watched Sage’s movements earlier today, figured out where he was staying—maybe even caught sight of Maggie. How in hell either man went unnoticed, Sage couldn’t be sure, but he had no doubt Polk had helped in this, and now, they were damn well headed for Hole-In-The-Wall… with Maggie! They meant to lead Sage right into a death trap. Poor Maggie could already be dead… or wishing she were. He walked to Polk’s dead body. “Her name was Maggie,” he groaned through gritted teeth, “and she’s the best woman who ever stepped foot in Wyoming!”