Velvet Thunder (12 page)

Heath relieved Bear of his knife and pressed the point of it into the corner of Bear's left eye. A small trickle of blood colored his cheek; he whimpered like a child.

“Listen, you bastard. I'm going to leave this miserable town for now. But when I come back—and I will come back—I'll cut both your eyes out if you've touched Blue. You tell Judge Jack the same goes for him too.”

Heath released Bear. Jacobson slid to the floor, lying in a pile of sawdust and sweat, vowing never to touch Blue again.

Heath looked back up the stairs. Blue and Stevie stood at the top. Blue's face showed a myriad of emotions: fright, gratitude, affection.

Stevie's lovely visage was inscrutable, as always. She was smiling down at him slightly, though she shrugged her slender shoulders as if she had expected him to do no less. They were lost in each other's gaze for a moment. Shaking free of Heath's spell, Stevie turned to Blue. “Get your things together. You're coming with me,” she said in a no-nonsense fashion. She knew nothing of the prostitute, but to a woman like Stevie, who identified with the wounded creatures of the world, Blue was a woman down on her luck. That was all she needed to know.

Blue was astonished. “What? Where?”

Heath joined them on the landing. “What've you got in mind?”

“I'm taking Blue to Pilar's. She can help take care of Winter. And heal at the same time.” She smiled at Blue. “But let the boy think he's taking care of you.”

“I appreciate it . . .” Blue began uncertainly. “But I'm a . . . what I mean to say is that Miss Pilar wouldn't want a . . .” She trailed off helplessly.

“You're a friend. Just as Pilar is a friend. She'll welcome you.” And in Stevie's mind the matter was settled.

Jeff had teased Stevie all her life about taking in strays. Crippled birds, motherless calves, stray dogs, half-dead wolves, even abandoned Indian boys, the list went on. She had no way of knowing how much he would appreciate her kindness toward Blue.

Leaning a muscled shoulder against the wall, Heath threw both women a smile that accelerated their heart rates accordingly. “You might as well save your breath, honey”—he addressed Blue but winked at Stevie—“there's no use arguing with her when she gets that mulish look in her eyes.”

Shocking, embarrassing . . . and thrilling Stevie, he pushed away from the wall and dropped a kiss on her lips. “I'll wait downstairs, sugar.”

 

Judge Jack and Colonel Banes entered the Territorial Bank of New Mexico.

A teller, Ebenezer Ribbons, greeted them cheerfully. “Welcome, gentlemen, what can I do for you this morning?”

Judge Jack spoke first. “I'm Elias Colt Jack, district judge of Adobe Wells, and this is my associate, Colonel Willard Banes, the commanding officer of Fort Bascomb. I represent a prospective mining group from Adobe Wells. Colonel Banes has been kind enough to accompany me for security reasons. I have a bag of valuables that I would like to deposit in your vault.”

Jack was holding a medium-size leather valise close to his right side. Banes stood next to the bag, ostensibly guarding it.

Smiling broadly, Ribbons responded, “Gentlemen, we appreciate your trust in our bank. May I ask what your valuables consist of?”

Jack looked questioningly at Banes.

“I have advised Judge Jack not to disclose the contents of his bag for security reasons.” Banes sounded very official.

“I see.” The teller eyed the bag suspiciously. “If you will take a seat, I'll get our president, Mr. Clark.”

Jack nodded.

On the far side of the bank lobby a brilliantly clothed woman was seated on a blue-striped settee, acting as if she were reading a newspaper. The chandelier overhead shot flickers of light onto her bright red hair. She was just past the flower of her youth, a bit on the corpulent side, but in a provocative way. Purposefully, she turned her back to the two men.

Shortly, Mr. Ribbons returned with a distinguished-looking gentleman who appeared to be in his early fifties. Ribbons made the introductions, emphasizing the titles of the customers.

Clark smiled broadly at Jack and Banes, impressed with their titles and appearance. “Mr. Ribbons tells me that you have some valuables to place in our vault.”

“And a sizable deposit. I believe I failed to mention that to Mr. Ribbons.”

“Won't you come into my office, where we'll be more comfortable?” Clark's elegant office was furnished with a gleaming mahogany desk strewn with official-looking papers. He motioned for his guests to be seated in two leather-upholstered chairs fronting the desk, while he assumed his position of power behind it.

The men engaged in small talk, touching on the lovely weather and territorial politics. The preliminaries over, Mr. Clark turned to business. “What, may I ask, do your valuables consist of?” he queried, eyeing the leather bag resting on Jack's lap.

“As I told Mr. Ribbons . . .” Banes began. “I have advised the judge not to disclose that information . . . for security reasons. You understand.”

“Certainly.” Clark was magnanimous. “I understand that you represent a prospective mining group.” The inflection of his voice clearly invited Judge Jack to reveal more about their business.

“Correct,” was all Jack said.

This piqued the bank official's interest as intended. “And the size of your deposit?”

“Twenty-five thousand on this visit. I expect to have a larger sum next time.”

Clark's eyes grew round when he heard the amount of money to be placed in his bank. His interest in the valuables waned. The bag could be full of nitroglycerine for all he cared. All that mattered was the money. “The security system in our bank is one of the best anywhere. I assure you that your money will be safe.”

Judge Jack opened the leather bag and took out a handful of bills, all of large denomination. He counted them out on the desk, handling them negligently as only the wealthy can do.

“Twenty-five thousand,” the judge finished. “And my valuables will remain in the bag, which, as you can see, locks.” The judge locked the bag and placed the key in his waistcoat pocket. “Now, if you don't mind,” he continued, “I would like to place it in the vault myself.”

Clark jumped to his feet. “Certainly, certainly. Ribbons”—he shouted through the open door to the clerk—“write out receipts for twenty-five thousand dollars cash and for”—he hesitated, eyeing the bag—“one valise filled with valuables.” He chuckled at the vague description.

It was clear that he considered the acquisition of this new client a banking coup. After the soft-sided valise had been placed in the vault and the receipts had been delivered to Jack, Clark accompanied his guests through the bank to the front door. Just as they were preparing to leave, he held the door closed momentarily and blocked their departure with his body.

“Gentlemen, the annual ball honoring the 1850 formation of the territory of New Mexico is tonight. Our territorial governor and other dignitaries will be in attendance. I would be honored to have you as my guests. The ball begins at eight o'clock in the town hall.”

Jack and Banes looked at each other questioningly. Finally, Jack nodded graciously. “We would be delighted. Until tonight, at eight.”

 

 

At precisely nine o'clock that evening Judge Jack and Colonel Banes entered the ball. Jack was dressed in evening wear, a black suit of superfine with a winter-white silk cravat and waistcoat. He carried a gold-topped cane in his gloved hand. Colonel Banes sparkled in his military dress uniform. Their late arrival created somewhat of a stir, as was their intention.

Clark hurried over to greet his esteemed guests. He introduced them to the welcoming board: John Carrington, owner of the White Castle Hotel, Leonard Albert, chairman of the Cattleman's Association, and Judson Smyth, secretary to the territorial governor.

“Judge Jack”—Smyth threw his head back and adopted an official tone—“I would like to present the governor of the Territory of New Mexico, His Excellency, Mr. Ned Casson.”

Jack listened for the sound of trumpets as Smyth stepped aside, revealing the governor. Casson had a strong-boned face with a hard, sardonic quality to it. He was the ultimate politician, outgoing, warm, and friendly, while at the same time calculating, fake, and slightly arrogant.

As if he were giving his inaugural address, the governor explained the significance of the ball to the Territory of New Mexico, giving minute details of its history. He then shared his vision of the glorious future of the territory, predicting that Congress would soon grant them statehood.

Jack and Banes listened attentively, nodding occasionally to show agreement or surprise. Finally, Casson moved in for the kill. “The future of our territory depends upon men like you. I've been told that you've struck it big in the mine fields. May I ask what you've found? Gold? Silver?”

Colonel Banes looked at Judge Jack and then back to the governor, stalling for time. He cleared his throat and feigned gravity. “You understand our desire for secrecy.”

The governor assured him vigorously, barely able to contain his excitement.

Judge Jack stepped closer and spoke softly. “The group I represent has discovered what appears to be one of the biggest diamond strikes in the world.”

Casson's eyes snapped with delight and burned with greed. “Does the bag you deposited with Mr. Clark today contain samples?”

“It does,” Jack conceded. “But I would remind you that we don't want word of our strike to get out until we have verified the gems through an independent expert and have had time to form a corporation for their extraction and disposal. I'm sure you understand.”

“Absolutely,” the governor fawned. “I assure you that nothing you reveal to me or to Mr. Clark will go beyond us.” He paused. “I would like to see your samples, however.”

Jack appeared to consider the matter gravely. When sweat popped out on the governor's brow, he hid a smile. “Very well. If it is convenient, we will meet you gentlemen at the bank in the morning, say about ten o'clock.”

Governor Casson beamed. “Very good!” He bid Jack and Banes good-bye reluctantly and moved to the other guests.

The colonel turned to Judge Jack. “You sly devil. With your cunning you should be in the Washington diplomatic corps.”

“That's a thought, my friend. But I understand the pay isn't so good.”

Jack and Banes chuckled together. A moment later Judson Smyth approached them with a brightly clothed woman slinking along at his side.

Judson might be in his mid-thirties, but he looked older. He was a short, rather nondescript person, slightly balding, with an unattractive paunch, the kind of person whose age is difficult to determine.

“Judge Jack, Colonel Banes, may I present my wife, Rachel Smyth.”

Jack and Banes bowed over Rachel's hand. Jack decided she was attractive in a showy sort of way.

With long eyelashes fluttering, she enthusiastically greeted the judge, not sparing Banes so much as a glance. Her bois de rose ball gown was cut very low, revealing the high swells of her blue-veined breasts. Masses of red curls were elaborately arranged in a chignon, complete with feathers and a miniature bouquet of dog roses. The feathers looked like a bird in flight each time she flirtatiously tossed her head.

Everything about her seemed calculated to get a rise out of a man. In Judge Jack's case, she succeeded. A slight flicker of recognition crossed his mind, but he was unable to place her.

“You're a judge?” she questioned Jack with her heavy Southern drawl. I didn't know we had such handsome judges out west.”

She stared overlong at Judge Jack's eye patch. When he glared back, she appeared distressed. “Oh, you must forgive my rudeness, staring like that. It's just that your patch adds a hint of mystery. Did you lose your eye fighting during the war?” she asked brazenly.

Jack nodded. “At the Battle of Atlanta.” It was a brazen lie. He had never served in the army. Actually, he had lost his eye in a scrape with the law. But the war-hero scenario was much more beneficial, particularly with women.

Rachel affected an exaggerated pout. “You poor thing.”

“You mustn't distress yourself on my account, Mrs. Smyth. One becomes accustomed after a while.” He waved her concern away. “I even find it amusing when my friends call me One-Eyed Jack.”

Rachel laid her hand on Judge Jack's arm. “Just so, you're a hero. In fact, you're obviously a man of great accomplishment. I understand you've made a big strike in the mine fields.”

Sputtering and coughing, Judson interrupted his wife before she could say more. “My wife speaks a little bluntly at times, Judge.” His face flamed with embarrassment. “I hope you will forgive her.”

“I think your wife is charming, Smyth.”

“How sweet you are,” Rachel oozed, then cast her husband a fulminating glare.

“We should mingle, my dear.” He grabbed her arm, showing more spunk than Judge Jack would have thought him capable of.

“Very well.” Rachel jerked her arm out of his grasp. “I'll save you a dance, Judge. Later.” Her eyes promised more than a dance.

“It will be my pleasure.”

Smyth led his wife away, talking to her in low tones.

“I believe the lady's being scolded.” Banes chuckled. “She's a brazen hussy, I'll have to say.”

Judge Jack's response to Banes's observation was not a smile, but a leer.

 

 

During the course of the evening Jack and Banes were questioned time and again about their strike. They always dismissed the issue out of hand.

Satisfied that they had aroused the curiosity of Santa Fe's wealthiest citizens, Jack decided it was time for him to collect on Rachel Smyth's verbal promise of a dance . . . and her nonverbal promise of much more. He ambled over to her. “Mrs. Smyth, may I have this dance?”

“I'd be delighted.”

He took her into his arms and led her lightly over the floor. As they floated to the tune of a Viennese waltz, he maneuvered her into an alcove that was blocked from the ballroom proper by a series of overgrown palms.

They continued to sway to the music. Rachel pressed her lips against Jack's throat, breathing shallowly, flicking her tongue out, causing goose flesh to rise on his neck. “My husband's work takes him away from home. A healthy woman gets lonely.” She moved against him seductively.

Jack's passion was kindled by Rachel's forwardness. The desire flashing in her eyes made her invitation unmistakable. “It's a shame for such a beautiful woman to be lonely,” he played along. “When do you think your next lonely moment might occur?”

A gleam of triumph shone in Rachel's fiery eyes. “Right after the ball. Seems there's an emergency. My husband has to go to Albuquerque on government business tonight. He'll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Rachel honey,” Justin's voice called from the other side of the palms as if on cue.

“I live on San Francisco Street just three blocks from here. You can't miss it; it's the big white house on the left,” she whispered before disappearing around the foliage.

Jack and Banes made their way to the hotel. The judge paused at the entrance to the open bar. “How about a drink?”

Banes yawned hugely behind his hand. “Believe I'll turn in.”

“Okay. You go ahead. I'll have a nightcap. See you in the morning.”