A Different Trade (8 page)

Two of the monolithic guards stepped forward while opening their coats to reveal even more guns strapped to them than Clint had anticipated. He knew better than to make a move for his Colt, however, since that would only make a bad situation worse.

“No need for any of this,” Clint said. “I'll leave on my own.”

Jade tightened her grip on his arm. “He is a guest here,” she said in a sharp tone that caused the gunmen to stop in their tracks. “He will be treated as such.”

Both gunmen kept their hands within easy reach of their weapons and turned around to look at the card table. The old man there slowly stood up and calmly said, “If he is still here by the time I sit, I will kill him myself.” To make his point even clearer, he pulled aside a flap in his jacket and drew a blade that was slender enough to slide between a set of ribs with next to no effort.

Before Clint could finish sifting through the options for escape that would hurt the least, the man next to the Asian fossil reached out with one hand to touch the old man's arm. “That is quite enough,” he said in a smooth baritone.

The old man bared his teeth and hissed a string of syllables in a language that didn't quite sound Chinese. The man with the deep voice had a solid build, a round face, and a mustache that didn't have a single whisker out of place. He looked up at the old man and said a few things in the same language that had been spewing from those withered lips.

Still muttering obscenities from another land, the old man sat down.

Rising to his feet, the man who'd put the old man in his place bowed slightly and said, “You will have to excuse him. He is losing quite a lot of money. Mostly due to his poor temperament.”

The old man didn't like that one bit and was quite vocal about it.

“Clint Adams,” Jade said while gesturing with her free hand, “this is Ki Dhang.”

The gentleman with the round face and perfect mustache shook Clint's hand while saying, “I have heard of you, Mr. Adams.”

“Have you now?” Clint asked.

“Yes. We are all quite fond of the more colorful stories of this wild land.” Glancing down at the old man, Dhang spoke in his native language. The only words Clint recognized in there were his own name. Although the old man's features softened a bit, he was still a long ways from friendly.

“Mr. Adams wanted to have a word with you,” Jade said. “I didn't think you would mind.”

“Of course not. My friends,” Dhang said to the others seated at the table, “excuse me for just a moment.”

The other players responded with subtle nods, and their game, whatever it may have been, was quickly resumed.

There was a bar against the back wall that was most likely very well stocked. Clint couldn't tell right away because the bartender was a stunning woman clothed in nothing but a pearl necklace. Her skin was flawless and her proud, ample breasts were only slightly covered by the long black hair that flowed over her shoulders. All Dhang had to do was look at the woman to get her to pour him a drink.

“I will have my usual,” Jade said.

“I'll have one of those, too,” Clint added.

Before long, two glasses of light green liquor were placed in front of them. Clint picked his up and took a drink. “Absinthe. That's why they call you Jade?”

She smiled, nodded, and drank the liquor as if it were less potent than ice water.

“Mr. Adams,” Dhang said while leaning against the bar, “what brings you to my place of business?”

“I've been in town for a short while and thought I'd have a look around. I would've stopped by sooner, but I've had some trouble with a man by the name of Westin Voss.”

“I have heard of him. Is he responsible for . . .” Rather than saying the words, Dhang motioned at Clint's bruised face.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Him and some of his friends.”

“Most unfortunate. It is dogs like that which give a town a bad name.”

“Have you had many dealings with him?”

“I do not allow his kind into the Tiger's Paw.” After sipping his drink, Dhang added, “Bad for business.”

“So you do know him,” Clint said. “Otherwise you wouldn't know what kind he is.”

“He did come to see me some time ago. I believe he wanted to force me to pay him protection money. He changed his mind when one of his gunmen disappeared.”

Even though he'd barely seen the three hulking gunmen move, Clint could imagine several different and unpleasant ways those monsters could make someone disappear.

“He is a petty thief,” Dhang continued. “Nothing more. I am certain a man of your talents will have no trouble in finding retribution for what was done to you.”

“I'm not worried about that. I'm asking around on behalf of Leo Parker.”

“Who?”

“He owns the Dig Dog Saloon just down the street.”

“Ah yes,” Dhang said. “Such an unfortunate name. I have heard that he has a few talented singers working for him.” Lifting his glass, he said, “I wish him well.”

“Do you know any reason why someone would want to run him out of business?” Clint asked.

“Honestly, Mr. Adams, if you have been inside that establishment, you would know that if a man wanted it to fail, all he would need to do is wait.”

For Leo's sake, Clint would have liked to refute that statement. However, he doubted a man who gambled in so many different languages would have gotten far if he couldn't spot a bluff.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Adams?” Dhang asked. “A seat at one of our high-stakes games perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Clint replied. “For now, though, I'll let you get back to your game before that old man has a fit.”

“That old man can arrange three deaths in as many countries with one word,” Dhang warned. “You might want to keep your voice down.”

“All right, then. I'll just be on my way.”

Clint wasn't exactly thrown out of the Tiger's Paw. He was shown to the door. In his years, he'd been tossed out of plenty of places, and many times the men doing the tossing said they were showing him the door. That usually amounted to his face meeting the door before his body met the street. This time, however, Jade walked with him through the main room and outside, where she parted ways with a kiss on the cheek. When she left him standing outside the saloon, Clint almost thought that leaving had been his idea.

Across the street was another place he intended on visiting. Since he wasn't welcome back inside the Tiger's Paw while that crazy old man was still there, Clint made his way over to a place that had scantly clad women displayed in most of the windows on all three of its floors.

Before Clint had even touched the front door, he'd already been propositioned by at least half a dozen women from the windows as well as the porch. Stepping inside the place should have been a dream come true considering all the ladies that came to meet him. Instead, he felt like a single piece of bloody meat that had been tossed into shark-infested waters.

“Girls, girls, there's only one of me,” Clint said.

The woman who got to him first had light brown hair and plenty of curves beneath her light pink dress. The dress's neckline was cut low enough to make Clint wonder how the hell she didn't fall out of it anytime she made a move. She smiled at him with full, red lips and stood so close to him that she was the only thing he could see.

“I'm Kat,” she said.

“Hello, Kat.”

“Welcome to Miss Tasha's. Come on up to my room and I'll get us both out of all these clothes.”

“What is this place?” Clint asked.

She laughed and asked, “You really don't know?”

“No, I know what goes on in here. I mean, is there also a saloon or is it just you girls in here entertaining folks?”

Kat took Clint's arm and led him into the next room. Compared to how Jade had done the same thing at the place across the street, Clint now felt more like he was being dragged. “Funny you should ask. The owner is making some improvements along those lines.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Miss Tasha!” Kat's voice was so loud that anyone within the building could have heard her. Since he was already right beside her, Clint swore his brain rattled between his ears.

The woman who answered the shouted summons reminded Clint of a gypsy fortune-teller who made her living cheating suckers out of their money. Her weathered European features hung on her tired face as though they'd already seen everything the world had to offer and weren't impressed. She wore at least three filmy skirts beneath several belts covered in charms and cheap jewelry that jangled loudly with every step she took.

“Miss Tasha,” Kat said to her. “Is the bar open yet? This here fella wants a drink.”

“I didn't say that,” Clint explained. “I just asked if there was also a saloon in here as well as the other entertainments.”

“Other entertainments?” Miss Tasha asked as she reached into a pocket for half a cigar and jammed it into her mouth. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I think he means us,” Kat said.

“He means pussy, he should just say pussy.”

“Yeah,” Clint said curtly. “That's what I meant.”

“Never mind, Miss Tasha,” Kat said. “I'll take care of him.”

Tasha waved them both off and struck a match against a wall so she could light her cigar.

Kat led him through a parlor and into a larger room that must have taken up a good portion of the entire floor. “Sorry about her,” she said. “Miss Tasha's not good with people but she's got a good head for numbers.”

“How long has this place been around?” Clint asked.

“Why are you so interested? Most men just come in, pick out what they want, and head to a room upstairs.”

“I was just passing by and thought I'd stop in to take a look.”

“Some of the girls in the windows draw you in?” Kat asked. “No need to be ashamed. That's what they get paid for.”

“And they do a fine job of it.” Having gotten a look at the room he was in, Clint could see the makings of a nice little saloon. There was a bar and what looked to be a fairly decent selection of liquor. “What's that over there?” he asked while pointing to a portion of the room that was crammed with pieces of lumber and sectioned off by a tarp.

“Just something that should be built in a while. Look,” Kat said. “Do you want a drink?”

“I don't think so.”

She reached down to cup his groin. “Do you want something else?”

“Thanks,” Clint replied, “but no.”

“If you change your mind, I can make you real happy.”

Kat's hand worked between Clint's legs with practiced skill that made him stiffen almost immediately.

“I'm sure you could,” he said, “but I don't pay for sex.”

Abruptly she pulled back her hand, then he was shoved toward the front door and given half a wave as she spun around on the balls of her feet to take the arm of another man, who was allowing his lower regions to make his decisions.

Having had his fill of scouting for a while, Clint headed back to the Dig Dog.

“So,” Leo said as he poured Clint a beer, “you basically got kicked out of both places?”

“No.” Clint took the beer and had a drink. After a moment, he said, “Well, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Sounds like a real successful day of scouting.”

“At least someone is bothering to scout. I haven't been in town for very long, and I can already see that your brother has more backing than those two idiots he rides with. If it was just those three, there are several better and quicker ways to cause you misery. He could bust up this saloon from the inside or out. And don't forget the easiest solution of all.”

“Don't say it,” Leo groaned.

“He could burn this place down.”

“I just asked you not to say that.”

“Or he or one of his men could just walk right up to you, beat you down, and then put a few bullets into you.”

“My brother may hate me,” Leo said, “but he wouldn't kill me!”

“He could shoot you without killing you,” Clint told him.

“All right. Enough of that. Sorry for what I said about your scouting.”

“Apology accepted.”

“But if you'd wanted to know more about my neighbors,” Leo continued, “I would've been able to tell you just about anything you needed to hear.”

“All right, smart ass. Tell me about the Tiger's Paw.”

“Mostly a gambling emporium,” Leo recited. “Carries plenty of exotic liquors, but not much that the locals would really care to drink. Lots of pretty china dolls working there, and they cook some of the best noodles in New Mexico.”

“Noodles?” Clint asked.

Leo nodded and looked in the direction of the Tiger's Paw as if he could see the place through every wall separating them. “Over a dozen varieties. Half of them are original recipes made by the cook that the owner brought in all the way from Sacramento.”

“Hmmm. I'll have to see if I can get a taste for myself.”

“So you actually found out less than I could have told you. Interesting.”

“The owner's name is Ki Dhang,” Clint said.

“I knew that.”

“He plays host to some powerful men from other states. If I had to wager, I'd say it's just as likely they're from other countries. Even more, I'm fairly certain those men aren't powerful for doing business of the legal variety.”

The smug satisfaction disappeared from Leo's face. “You mean criminals?”

“High-ranking ones, I'd say.”

“Criminals have a rank?”

“Even outlaw gangs have members that rank higher than others,” Clint said. “Some gangs are more like businesses. I've seen a few here and there. There are also outlaws themselves who just wield more power than some brute with a gun or a few followers. I'd say those sorts of men are no strangers to the Tiger's Paw.”

Leaning with both elbows on the bar, Leo glanced around as if he was afraid of some demon lurking in a corner somewhere. He didn't have much to worry about in that regard. The only other people to be seen were the usual drinkers and a few more gamblers than normal. On the stage, the guitar player plucked his strings to a new melody while Madeline sang softly to him. “What makes you so sure of all that?” Leo asked.

“I've met powerful men and I've met killers. The men Ki Dhang was hosting were both.” After Leo's face had become a pale enough shade of white, Clint added, “Also, there wasn't nearly enough money on that card table to warrant the firepower those men were surrounding themselves with.”

The whole truth of it was that Clint was playing a hunch. While his instincts on such matters had saved his life more than once, they weren't exactly gospel. Since playing them off as certainty helped move things along, Clint did just that.

“The good part is that I don't think Ki Dhang or any of his men have anything to do with your problems.”

For the first time that day, Leo looked truly hopeful. “Really?”

“Yeah. The Tiger's Paw is doing just fine as it is. He doesn't stand to gain by anything that happens to you. That is, unless you haven't told me something crucial in that regard.”

“No. I'm just like you said. Insignificant.”

“Great.” Seeing all of Leo's hopefulness fade away, Clint added, “Trust me. There are some men who you want to think you're insignificant. Ki Dhang and some of the others he hosts are prime examples.”

“You've got me curious. I'd like to meet some of those powerful criminals. Who are they?”

“Smugglers, most likely.” Clint couldn't help but be amused when he imagined Leo introducing himself to the crazy old man who'd wanted to slit someone's throat outside to keep his rugs from being stained. “I'm sure Dhang would like to meet his neighbors. Just be sure to bring a gift.”

Eventually, Leo straightened up and spoke in a normal tone. “You're pulling my leg right now, right?”

“More or less.”

“Speaking of neighbors, I'm sure you found your way to Miss Tasha's.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Clint asked.

“Like what?”

“Like some holier-than-thou asshole.”

Leo shrugged. “I've done some scouting of my own and heard a few things about you along the way.”

“You were checking up on me?”

“When you were just delivering a few bottles, I didn't need to know much where you were concerned. Now that my livelihood and health may be at stake, I'd say it would be smart to know more about everyone involved.”

Since that was basically the purpose behind his day of scouting anyway, Clint couldn't really argue with that. “So what did you hear?”

“That you've bedded damn near everything in a dress wherever you go.”

“That's a bit much.”

“I imagine it's close. I know about you and that gal who runs the stable across town.”

Clint shrugged. “All right, but did you get a look at that gal in the stable?”

“Yes I did. Can't say I really blame you there.”

“I did get over to Miss Tasha's. Before you say anything else, though,” Clint quickly added, “you should know that I don't pay for sex, and I didn't bed any of the girls working there.”

“Then that's why it was such a short visit,” Leo said. “Unless you're buying opium or time with one of those whores, there's not much reason to be in that place.”

“Opium?”

Leo nodded. “That miserable old cow bought her cathouse with profits from opium. She soaks cigars in the stuff and barely bats an eye when one of her customers has so much of it that he never leaves her place alive.”

“Sounds like you know quite a lot about that spot,” Clint pointed out. “A lot more than you knew about the Tiger's Paw.”

“What can I say? Not all of the women working over there are so bad.”

“You might change your favorable opinion if you knew that Miss Tasha stands to gain a whole lot by your place being crippled.”

“Westin is just after some money,” Leo said. “I doubt he wants to cripple me.”

“Maybe he doesn't, but a partner of his might not be so charitable.”

“And you think Miss Tasha is that partner?”

“It stands to reason. Being set up across from a place like the Tiger's Paw can't be good for her business,” Clint explained. “If there's any chance at all that Ki Dhang or any of his associates are involved in the opium trade, that would cut even deeper into her profits.”

“Not to mention put her in danger,” Leo said. “If what you said about Dhang and his criminal friends is true, that is.”

“More than that, I'd say her business may not be doing too well. That's mostly just a gut impression, but it won't take much to see if that's true or not.”

Leo's face lit up as he excitedly said, “Of course! A man with your reputation would only be expected to frequent a cathouse.”

“Hey! I told you, I don't need to pay any woman to share my bed.”

“Of course,” Leo said with a wink. “Me neither. If you didn't see anything to make you suspicious, then there are a few more places in town you might want to check.”

“You mentioned that Westin wants you to hand over Madeline, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, someone like Miss Tasha could surely put her to work,” Clint said.

Leo's muscles tensed and he looked toward the stage as though someone were trying to pull the pretty singer away right in front of him. “Madeline would never work as a whore.”

“Sometimes a job like that isn't exactly voluntary,” Clint said.

“If that old hag thinks she'll make that dear girl into a slave . . .”

“Actually, even though I don't think that woman is beyond such a thing, I'm not sure that's what she has in mind.”

“What, then?” Leo asked.

“Well, it looks like she's turning one of her parlors into something of a saloon.”

“Nothing too surprising about that.”

“She's building a stage just big enough for a singer or two.”

Leo winced. “Uh-oh.”