Echoes of a Dead Man Page 5

  He forced a smile. ‘I’m here to play cards. That’s all. I’m happy to accept it was an honest mistake if everyone else is.’

  Stone stepped in closer, shaking with anger as he towered over Matt. ‘Sounds like you’re accusing me of something else. Is that right?’

  Matt didn’t move, just matched Stone’s stare with insolent calm. ‘Like I said, probably an honest mistake. Could happen to anyone. Why don’t we just open a new deck and play on.’

  Stone continued to glare, but the oppressive silence seemed to bother him. He looked around then turned to Jethro. ‘I ain’t no cheat and I ain’t playing with cheats. Are you coming, Jethro?’

  Jethro considered for a second or two then scooped his chips into his hat. ‘I think maybe I will call it a night. Seems to me Matt’s on a winning streak, and I believe I’ve seen enough for one evening.’ He stood up, looking directly at Matt, the humour gone from his eyes despite the smile on his lips. ‘It’s been interesting. An education, you might say. I never before saw a man that quick with his hands. It’s interesting to know.’

  CHAPTER 7

  After cashing in his chips, Jethro stopped at the crowded bar but, broke and humiliated, Stone was in no mood for idle chatter and a path cleared as he swept like a hurricane through the saloon. Not a man or woman seemed eager to voice an objection as he shoved them aside. Their fear warmed Stone, refuelling his confidence and stoking his vengeful streak.

  ‘He’s a slick son-of-a-bitch, I’ll give him that,’ he mumbled, as he stood in the street and spun the barrel of his six-shooter. ‘I should have finished him when I had the chance. He’s asking for it.’

  He frowned as a few spots of rain wet his face, then crossed the street to the shelter of an abandoned doorway before he pulled a bag of makings from his coat and made a cigarette. Testily, he tried several times to strike a light before being successful, then for a few minutes stood in the shadows contem-plating the day’s events.

  ‘Do you know what I think?’ he asked aloud, flicking away his unlit smoke. ‘I think he needs a better reason for me to kill him.’

  He glanced around to make sure no one had overheard then smiled as he admired his logic. Jethro always said that most times a dead snake made more sense than he did but tonight he would show that mean old bastard. Show them all.

  He lost his train of thought as he glimpsed a little redhead come out of the saloon, all breast and leg, definitely worth a second look. Any other time, she would be worth the couple of dollars it would cost him for the night, but tonight he had bigger plans and he forgot her once she disappeared into the shadows.

  ‘One’s pretty much like another when they’re on their knees,’ he muttered, scratching his crotch thoughtfully. ‘Even Lomew’s little bitch’ll beg for it in the end.’

  ‘That’s a bad habit you’ve got there, Stone. I told you before: you need two people for a conversation.’

  Stone turned on a dime, his hand sweeping down, ready to draw his gun. ‘Is that you, Unc?’

  Jethro stepped half into the light coming from a nearby lantern. ‘I told you not to call me that.’

  Stone relaxed. ‘Who’s going to hear?’

  ‘I heard you making plans for Jessie Manners, didn’t I?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Stone admitted with whiny reluctance. ‘Or maybe I was just talking.’

  He hated the way the old man made him feel three feet tall and five years old. Mean old bastard. He still hadn’t told him why they hadn’t killed Lomew the minute they saw him. When Stone had asked, Jethro had told him to be patient. Well, that was all well and good when you had money in your pockets, but that game had about cleaned them out.

  Jethro punched him on the arm. ‘I hope so for your sake.’

  Stone recognized the understated threat but curiosity outweighed good sense. ‘Why? What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Let’s just say I don’t want to see anything happen to that girl.’

  Stone’s jaw dropped. ‘Any special reason why?’

  ‘My interest is my business,’ Jethro said evenly. ‘And I’d advise you to start remembering that. Besides, you’ve got enough trouble with Matt Lomew without getting on the wrong side of me.’

  Stone’s hackles rose immediately. ‘You’re damned right. Son-of-a-bitch, making me look bad – twice. He’s going to pay, big time.’

  Jethro stepped back into the shadows. ‘Are you going to shoot him in the back again?’

  ‘You got that right. And this time I ain’t so drunk I won’t do the job right. This time I’m going to watch him die.’

  Jethro sighed. ‘Well, that’s your business. Just leave the girl alone. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Whatever you say, Unc, but can I at least have her when you’re through with her?’

  He didn’t see it coming. He just felt the choking pressure of a forearm slammed across his throat. Heard the crack of wood as his back crashed painfully against a barred door. Every instinct told him to draw iron, kick, punch, gouge, or put up a fight of some kind but experience coupled with the weakness in his knees and the tingling sensation in his bladder were a compelling deterrent and he remained impassive.

  ‘I don’t think you’re hearing me,’ Jethro said, so close his breath felt moist against Stone’s face. ‘I said you don’t touch her. Ever. Is that clear enough?’

  Stone did his best to nod and the pressure eased, his knees buckling as they took his weight again. ‘One of these days, Jethro,’ he growled as he rubbed some feeling back into his bruised throat. He didn’t have the nerve to finish his threat.

  ‘I hear you,’ he said. ‘Hell, I never saw you take a real interest in a woman before. What kind of a nephew would I be to stand in the way now?’

  He waited for an answer.

  ‘Jethro? Are you there?’

  Silence answered him and he breathed easier. Be patient, he warned himself. Someday soon Jethro would get what was coming to him, and even if it wasn’t Stone who delivered the fatal blow, the satisfaction of seeing him dead would be the same.

  Staring across at the saloon, he noticed the redhead leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, and smiled as he straightened his hat. The itch in his pants made him jig as he thought about the night he could have with her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out fluff and cursed. Lomew had cleaned him out to his last cent.

  He watched the redhead toss her cigarette into the street and go back inside the saloon. Shit. He couldn’t even afford a two-dollar whore.

  ‘Damn you, Lomew. And damn you too, Jethro.’

  He started down the street towards The Grand. What the hell right did Jethro have telling him what to do anyhow?

  Leaving her bed, Jessie pulled a blanket with her and wrapped it around her shoulders. She had been tossing and turning for the past five hours if the clock on the dresser was to be believed. And she did. After the first two hours, she had left the lamp turned up so that she could count the minutes. Now with her mouth like cotton wool and her eyes sore from staring sightlessly at the ceiling, the time had come to give up hope of escaping into a dreamless sleep.

  The same thoughts were still buzzing through her mind when she entered the kitchen, but she immediately forgot them when the door snapped shut behind her. Spinning around, the last person she expected to see was Stone Davies, but there he stood. With his back pressed against the wall, his arm across the door, he smiled wryly as he drew on a cigarette, watching her through the smoke tendrils as he exhaled.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, strangely annoyed rather than afraid to see him.

  He pushed away from the wall and strolled to join her, backing her up to the table until she had nowhere to go unless she climbed over it. She raised her chin contemptuously, despite the overpowering size and nearness of him. Even when he pulled out a chair, turned it around, folded his arms across the back and straddled it, she didn’t try to run. Later, she would probably wonder why she hadn’t, but now, defiance held her in place. Or
maybe it was curiosity and a misplaced belief in the good of mankind.

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I came to see you. I thought we might get to know each other a little better.’

  On another man, his grin might have been boyish, but on him it was evil. The way his gaze moved around her face, dipping to the open neck of her nightdress, she doubted his intentions were innocent. His lips glistened as his tongue flicked across them. Even his bobbing Adam’s apple seemed to agree with her.

  She clutched the neck of her gown together. ‘It’s late for a social call.’

  ‘Less chance of us being disturbed.’ He stared into her eyes, the mischief unmistakable in his. ‘Don’t even think about screaming.’

  His fingers pushed hers aside, stroking her throat before curling around her neck and pulling her face closer to his. As his breath dampened her skin, panic finally kicked in and she strained against his hold.

  ‘Don’t do that, if you know what’s good for you. I could snap your neck like a twig, but where would be the fun in that? It’d be better for both us if you just gave me some of that honey sweetness you’re giving Lomew.’

  The sour smell of liquor wafted into her nostrils bringing to mind an image formed years earlier of Ethan Davies, drunk and violent. With Stone’s fingers sinking into her windpipe, choking off her air, she could almost believe it was the same man. Finally, her resolve not to provoke him, snapped. Indignation surged through her as she slapped at his hand, but he just held her wrist in a painful grip, twisting her arm until the pain crippled her into submission.

  Somehow finding the strength to move beyond it, she lashed out. Her nails raked his cheek, blood beading instantly against his tanned skin. Calmly, he touched the cuts, scowling as he looked at the crimson coating his fingertips.

  ‘That’s not very friendly, but if that’s the way you want to play it.’

  She tried to yank away, but, as his chair overturned, he shoved her onto the table and pinned her arms. Bent over backwards, with her toes barely touching the freezing floor, his weight pressing down on her felt as though it would break her in half. With his cold lips suffocating her protests, her kicking and writhing only seemed to intensify the cruelty of his kiss.

  ‘Jessie, is that you?’

  Stone stepped away from her, one hand pressed against her chest, the other pressed to her lips while he tilted his good ear in the direction of the voice. Beyond the kitchen, footsteps approached. Jessie recognized Lou’s uneven lope and gave in to panic.

  ‘Lou!’

  Somehow she managed to duck free of Stone’s restraint and tried to reach the hallway, but it was too late. As Stone’s body slammed her against the wall, his bullets splintered the door. It creaked open giving Jessie a brief moment of hope before Lou staggered in, reeled against the table then crashed to the floor. Her stomach bucked, setting off a reaction that seemed to strip six years from her in a split second, leaving her physically sick as she watched a familiar scene played out with unfamiliar characters.

  Stone’s .45 dug into her cheek as he forced her to look. ‘Hurts, doesn’t it, to lose someone you care about?’

  She screwed her eyes shut. Wake up. The familiar nightmare had to end now, didn’t it? And yet this time it was different. The chaos around her continued. Stone shouted into her face but he might as well have been talking Apache. Nothing made sense. Only the blood seemed real.

  ‘Look!’ he screamed against her ear. ‘Look! I want you to remember everything.’

  She fought him, spinning until her face was only inches away from his. ‘I do remember everything, you son-of-a bitch.’ Her spittle flecked his cheek. ‘Do you think this is the first time I’ve seen a man gunned down in cold blood? You’re just like your father. A murderer. And just like Ethan Davies you’ll get what’s coming to you when Matt finds you.’

  ‘Lomew?’ He seemed genuinely amused. ‘He’s a dead man walking.’

  She laughed in his face. ‘You’re no match for Matt. He’ll kill you exactly the way he killed your pa. And I’ll watch and—’

  He punched her so hard she crumpled. As he picked her up and carried her away, the last thing she saw was Lou, face down on the floor in a pool of blood. As he carried her out into the wind and rain, darkness finally eased the pain and she slipped gratefully into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 8

  Carrying the candy, Matt stepped out of the oppressive atmosphere of the gaming room and sucked in the crisp night – early morning – air. Somewhere along the street, a volley of gunshots disturbed the otherwise perfect silence and he shook his head thoughtfully. Some towns never seemed to sleep, but then in his line of work that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe he should settle down here if he lived through all this. No, not maybe. Definitely. With a receipt from Langton in his pocket for almost $25,000 and a gutful of whiskey blurring the line between possible future outcomes, the only thing left to do before he turned in for eight hours of well-deserved sleep was give Jess her birthday present.

  Feeling younger than he had in a long time, he tripped off the plank walk ankle-deep into a pile of manure. Like a drunken fool, he chuckled as he shook his boot. Was that meant to be good luck? Whether it was or not, his day hadn’t turned out too badly and if he could make things right with Jess, then he could face whatever tomorrow – today – threw at him. He started to walk, taking two decisive strides before a voice stopped him.

  ‘Matt, you forgot this.’

  He turned slowly, only just recognizing Jethro through the encroaching darkness. The dim light coming from the saloon’s grimy windows revealed him standing on the edge of the shadows, forever watchful as he surveyed the street along its length and breadth and back again. He held out Matt’s cane.

  Matt stared at the damn thing for a few seconds, saying nothing when he finally took it.

  ‘You’re welcome. How’s the girl?’ Jethro asked, as if he was an old family friend.

  If Jethro’s unexpected appearance hadn’t sobered him up, that question did. For a moment Matt was at a disadvantage as he wondered where Stone was. Moving in behind him, already aiming a bullet at the centre of his back?

  ‘Take it easy, Matt. Stone’s off whoring somewhere and when the time comes, you and I will meet in a fair fight. Right now, all I’m doing is returning something that belongs to you.’

  The assurance didn’t do much for Matt’s confidence and he kept his thumb resting lightly on his belt buckle as he stared back at Jethro, the awkward silence spoiling his mood.

  ‘Well then, if you’ll excuse me. …’ he said, eventually.

  Jethro stepped forward, his arms folded across his chest, a sudden sense of urgency about him, as if he had just reached a decision. ‘How much do you know about that girl of yours? Where she came from? Who she is?’

  Enough that he didn’t want to share. ‘That’s my business, not something I want to discuss with a man who’s made it clear he wants to take my girl and my life and probably not in that order.’

  Jethro nodded agreeably, backing off slightly as he relaxed visibly. ‘That’s fair enough. How about this then: have you asked yourself why I haven’t killed you yet?’

  Matt managed to keep his pride in check. After all, in a fair fight he wasn’t sure he could beat Jethro to the draw. ‘Haven’t given it a thought. You’ll call it when you’re ready, I guess.’

  Jethro frowned. ‘You’re a cool customer. Usually, I like that in a man, but on you it’s a little … unnerving.’

  The admission surprised Matt. He hadn’t thought for a minute that Jethro might be experiencing the same feelings of doubt that he himself was.

  ‘You see, emotions weaken a man,’ Jethro said. ‘Especially love. Do you know what I’m saying? Are you a weak man, Matt?’

  The questions were undoubtedly meant to make Matt uncomfortable and his palm felt sticky against the candy melting inside its wrapper. ‘Can’t say as I’ve noticed,’ he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

&nbs
p; ‘There you go again, making me want to like you.’ Jethro unfolded his arms and let his hands hang loose at his sides. ‘Watch your back, Matt Lomew,’ he said, as he walked away.

  Matt pulled up his collar against a sudden chill and the patter of rain, and contemplated Jethro. Matt had no idea what the hell that little pow-wow was all about, but he decided that at least for tonight Jethro posed no threat to him or Jessie. Strange that he should take the word of an outlaw but Jethro was a notorious bad man with a reputation built on instilling fear. When he eventually decided to make his play, it would be in full view of witnesses who could keep that legend alive. Maybe tomorrow Matt would feel differently, but tonight while his brain was addled with expensive booze he had things to straighten out with Jessie.

  In the few minutes it took to walk to the hotel, Matt couldn’t come up with one reasonable excuse he could give to Lou as to why he needed to see Jessie in the middle of the night. And he had no doubt Lou would be waiting for him. After all, he had put up the $5000 dollars that got Matt into the game, and being a shrewd businessman he’d want to know what the return was on his investment. Treading softly, Matt approached the abandoned desk, smiling at the open book of Shakespeare and half-empty cup of coffee. Yep. Lou was nothing if not predictable.

  Voices coming from the dining room, or maybe the kitchen, made him hesitate. He hadn’t expected anybody but Lou to be up this late, but it sounded like quite a party and, as he glanced towards the stairs, he saw the shadows of more people coming down. Quickly, he headed along a narrow corridor to the rear of the reception, passing several doors before he reached a room at the end. Light seeped out to meet him, and without hesitation, he tapped and pressed himself close against the panels as he glanced back towards the busy lobby.