A Different Trade (9 page)

Clint spent the next day wandering the streets of Larga Noche and looking in on as many saloons or gambling parlors as he could find. None of them stacked up to the Tiger's Paw. In fact, only one of the saloons Clint found was much better than Leo's place. For the most part, the others were watering holes catering to a few regular customers and their owners weren't interested in doing much more than that.

There was only one other cathouse in the area, and that was a small place about half a mile outside of town. The owner was a stick of a man who was too afraid of Miss Tasha to take one step closer to Larga Noche. A man like that was hardly a threat to anyone else.

After one more day of making the rounds, Clint was convinced that his first instincts were correct and the only other players he needed to be concerned about where Leo's situation was concerned were the owners of the two establishments closest to the Dig Dog. He was also convinced that so much walking didn't do anything to help a set of sore ribs.

After calling it an early night, he made his way back to the stables to pay Eclipse a visit. The Darley Arabian was just finishing up with a feed bag when Clint approached his stall to give his ear a scratch.

“She taking good care of you, boy?” he asked.

“You know I am,” Danielle replied from another stall.

Clint had seen her in there fussing with another horse's hoof, but hadn't said much until now. “Just thought I'd come by and say hello.”

“To me or the horse?”

“Both.”

After grunting with effort a few times, Danielle replied, “I'm flattered.”

“What are you doing over there?”

“This old girl's got a stone under her shoe and I'm just . . .” After one more grunt, she sighed, “There you go! That's better.” Her upper body appeared over the stall's gate as she held up a chunk of rock. “Now she'll stop fussing so much,” she said while tossing the rock away. “Speaking of fussing, what really brings you by? I know that's a fine horse you've got, but he ain't family.”

“I also figured you might be here.”

She stepped out of the horse stall and shut the gate behind her. “Go on,” she said. As she got closer to him, Danielle reached out to put her hands on him.

Clint smiled. “After our last visit went so well, I thought perhaps—
ow!
”

She'd cut him short by moving her hands directly to his sore ribs and pressing in.

“What the hell?” Clint asked as he backed up a step.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing carousing when you should be resting?”

“Carousing?”

“I have friends in this town other than you, you know,” she told him. “I've heard that you've been sticking your nose into every saloon in Larga Noche when you should have been resting.”

“That's not the same as carousing,” Clint said in his defense. “I've just been having a look around.”

She glared at him for a few seconds before sighing, “I suppose I'll believe you.”

“No, I think you're going to believe your friends when they told you I wasn't ordering more than one beer in each place.”

“And that you didn't let yourself be led away by any of those whores working at them places,” she added. “What were you doing in those places, then?”

Clint winced and twisted his body to try and work out a kink in his back. When Danielle saw that, her features softened a bit. “Stay where you are,” Clint snapped when he saw her reaching out for him again.

“Don't get squirrelly now,” she said as she gently placed her hand on him. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Waiting until she got closer, Clint wrapped his arms around her so he could reach down to cup her backside. “That's a lot better.”

Danielle shook her head. “Not now, mister. I'm done tending to one wounded animal, which means I should tend to the next one.”

Clint looked around at the other stalls to find Eclipse and one other contented horse apart from the one that had just gotten the stone removed from its shoe. Following her line of sight when he looked back to Danielle, he asked, “You mean me?”

“What other wounded animal do you see? You're coming back to get off your feet so I can wrap them ribs and maybe put something on that busted mess you call a face.”

“I suppose that might be a good idea,” he admitted as he pushed open the front door and held it for her.

“This is what you had in mind the whole time, isn't it?”

Clint motioned for her to walk ahead of him.

Danielle laughed and shook her head. “You're a real piece of work, Adams.”

It was well past midnight when Leo heard a knock on his office door. He'd been in there for several hours. The first stretch of time had been spent napping on the narrow cot against the wall. He'd been at his desk for the rest of the time, balancing the books and trying not to get too worked up about the totals at the bottom of his ledger pages. There was a fairly good crowd that night. The place was mostly full and had been since early evening. It was always like that when Madeline sang with a guitar and piano player backing her up. As she sang and the musicians played, cards were dealt and liquor was served. And yet, Leo still didn't have much of a reason to join in with the merriment.

Grateful for even a short reprieve, he got up from his chair and opened the door. “Yes?” he said to the older woman standing outside the office.

“You might want to come out here,” Henrietta said.

“What is it now?”

“Your brother is here.”

“What does he want?” Leo moaned.

“I'm not sure yet. I just thought you should know he was out here with one of those gunmen of his.”

“Which one?”

“The man with one arm.”

“Aw, Christ,” Leo moaned.

“Is any one of them better or worse than the other?” she asked.

“I suppose not.”

“Then get out here and have a word with them!”

Wincing as though she could be heard over the commotion in the main room, Leo asked, “What am I supposed to do about them?”

“You know Westin will want to see you,” Henrietta said. “And he'll just start some trouble if he doesn't see you quickly enough. Best to head that off and face him right away.”

“Fine,” Leo griped. “Give me a moment to finish up what I was doing.”

Henrietta stuck her head past him to look into the office. When he tried to get in her way, she shoved past him by ducking under his arm. “What were you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing. This is my office, damn it.”

“And I'm your partner,” she shot back.

“You only own a quarter of this place,” Leo pointed out.

“Which means I get at least a quarter of this office.”

Knowing he wouldn't be able to get her to leave unless he attempted to toss her over one shoulder, Leo let out an exasperated sigh while running his hands through his unruly red hair. “Why can't you just do what I ask?”

“As soon as you do what I ask,” she said. Henrietta pointed to the open ledger on Leo's desk. “You were going through the figures.”

“Yes I was. Someone's got to.”

“No,” she said as she stormed over to the desk and slammed the ledger shut. “We already know we're in trouble. We're doing all we can to fix it. Agonizing about how deep in the hole we are is only twisting your insides into a knot.”

When Leo tried to reach for the ledger, Henrietta snatched it off the desk and tucked it under one arm. Because of her size, the book looked like it was in the hands of a child.

“You want something to do?” she said. “Go out there and face your brother.”

“We already know what he wants.”

“Then go tell him he can't have it!”

Leo let out a slow breath and nodded. “You're right.”

“Of course I am.”

“I suppose I'm just a little gun-shy where Westin is concerned.”

“That's understandable,” she said. “But you can't let a man like that know he's got to you that way. Otherwise, it'll just get worse.”

He nodded again. “What would I do without you?”

“Go under quicker than a boat with no bottom,” she quickly replied. “Now get out there and show him who's in charge at the Dig Dog.”

As Leo left the office, he sighed, “Clint's right. I need to find a new name for this place.”

In the space of three steps, Leo had his head held high and his back straight. He patted the young man tending bar on the shoulder and asked, “You selling that new liquor?”

“Yes, sir,” the barkeep replied. He was a tall fellow with a face that caught the eye of the women who came through that saloon. More important to Leo, he was also a hard worker and too honest to steal from the till.

“How's it going over?”

“One or two didn't much care for it, but the rest are liking it just fine. Three men even pooled their money to buy one of the bottles.”

“Did they bargain you down on the price?”

The bartender shook his head proudly. “No, sir.”

Leo slapped his shoulder one more time, “Good man! Keep it up.”

Madeline had just finished up her song, and a good portion of the saloon was applauding. As she took her bows, Leo walked between the tables until he got to one that was near the side of the stage. Two men sat there, each drinking from glasses that had been filled by a bottle they shared. The bottle was half empty and bore the label with a picture of a wolf's head on it.

As soon as he arrived at the table, Leo wished he'd brought the shotgun from beneath the bar. Then again, that would have been a real good way to chase some of his paying customers right into a place where they stood a chance of getting shot. Setting all that aside, he leaned down so he could be heard over the noise in the saloon and said, “I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Westin.”

“But I ain't doing nothing,” Westin said.

“After what you did the last time, you're not welcome here. Now get on out of here or I'll have to escort you myself.”

Westin turned to the man beside him and smirked. “Well now, Samuel. Look who grew a pair of balls in the last couple of days.”

“Impressive,” the one-armed man said.

“Come on,” Leo announced. “Let's go.”

Leo led the way outside. Although he managed to keep himself fairly steady and his stride at a constant pace, he was fighting back a nasty bout of the shakes. Every step of the way, he expected to feel either a clubbing blow to the back of his head, a punch to the kidneys, or a bullet through his spine. He'd weathered plenty of the first two throughout his years growing up with Westin. He never would have seriously expected the third option until the last few days.

When he rounded the corner of his building, Leo took a step into an alleyway. He stopped short of ducking completely into the shadows, however, in hopes that the number of people walking up and down the street would keep things relatively civil.

“You've made your point, Westin,” Leo said as he spun around to face the other two men. “I'm trying to pull together what you asked.”

“I don't think you are,” Westin replied. He stepped up to stand so close to Leo that he forced the other man to put his back against the closest wall. “If you were, that pretty lady in there would be introducing herself to me. Instead, she barely knows who I am.”

“I'm talking about the money. That's what I'm trying to get.”

“We don't want the money anymore,” Samuel said. The one-armed man's voice was like a set of rusty nails gouging into Leo's ears.

“Then . . . what do you want?” Leo asked.

When Westin grabbed hold of him by the collar and slammed him up against the wall, it was a welcome reminder of days gone by for Leo. At least it gave him something else to think about instead of the killer gazing at him. “You know what we want, you damn fool,” Westin snarled. “We want you to tell that songbird in there that she's going with us.”

“Why do you even need me to do that?” Leo asked. “I mean, what do you expect me to do? I don't even have a signed agreement with her. She's free to come and go as she pleases.”

“So you'll just introduce us and step aside,” Samuel said.

Leo regretted saying anything to the men in front of him. He regretted bringing them outside and far away from so many witnesses. The street was disturbingly empty at the moment, and all he could think about were accounts of men who'd been gunned down in the middle of the night when nobody lifted a finger to stop the killers.

Doing his best not to let his fear show too much, Leo said, “Madeline is a singer. That's all.”

Samuel nodded. Clearly, he didn't give a damn about what was being said.

Shifting his eyes to his stepbrother, Leo continued, “If you want her to sing, make her an offer.”

“What she does after she leaves this shit hole,” Samuel said as he stepped forward to push Westin aside like so much trash, “don't concern you. All you need to worry about is agreeing to whatever story that comes your way just so long as it ends with her being contracted to us.”

“But I already told you, and I told Westin, that me and Madeline don't have a contract!”

“Then write one up, date it for whenever she first got here, and make her sign it,” Samuel said. “Anyone comes along, lawmen or such, family, you tell them that the first contract was legal and so was the second.”

“But that won't hold up forever. Just let me get the money together to pay you,” Leo said. “This is insane.”

“Are you calling me crazy?” Samuel asked in a voice that chilled Leo to the bone.

When he looked over at his stepbrother, it was the first time Leo was absolutely certain that Westin wasn't the one in charge. “No,” Leo said. “Of course not. I'm just saying that I can make a lot more profits if Madeline stays where she's at. I've got some other plans in mind that will turn things around for the Dog real quick. Name your price and I'll pay it. More than you asked before!”

“Other plans, huh?” Samuel grunted. “You mean like that piss water you're selling like it's gold in a bottle? What's that supposed to get you?”

“A reputation,” Leo said. “Fancy liquor can turn a saloon into a respected establishment attracting fancy customers. When word spreads that folks can drink spirits here that they can't get hardly anywhere else, it'll bring in some curious men with deep pockets. Word will also spread about the beautiful girl singing her heart out. Men who come for one will see the other, and before you know it, all them good words are spreading like wildfire.”

Leo's eyes bounced back and forth between the two men in front of him as the words kept spilling from his mouth. Although a few more locals were walking down the boardwalk past them, they either didn't care about what was happening or knew it was often healthier to leave well enough alone.

“And the thing is,” Leo continued, “there doesn't need to be many rich men like that coming around. Just a few because I'm also working to get the Dog on the gamblers' circuit. Once some of those card players come by and see the money that can be made at one of my tables, they'll bring more gamblers around for a taste.”

Westin's eyebrows rose. “Rich men like to gamble and a few of them can drop a good amount of cash at a few games.”

“That's right!” Leo said. “When they're sick of gambling, they'll drink, and while they're drinking, they'll enjoy Madeline's singing. When they leave, they talk about what a good time they had here, and it starts all over again. In the meantime, I'll be building up the Dog into the best saloon in New Mexico.”

“And while you're doing all of this, you'll be giving me and my boys a cut of whatever you earn,” Westin reminded him.

“Naturally.”

Westin looked to Samuel and said, “That seems like a good way to go. Even if he's not able to pay up, we can still take whatever we like.”

“We'll take it anyway,” Samuel said. “And since it took this long to come up with the money, we're setting down another plan. You're going to start a new business in this place, and just so you don't think we're heartless, you'll be allowed to keep a small percentage of the profits for yourself.”

“What about Madeline?” Leo asked.

“She's still coming with us. You'll also put some other girls on your payroll under a contract that I'll bring to you tomorrow. They'll be singing, serving drinks, cleaning up, whatever the hell you want to tell them. Soon as they get here, you hand them over to us.”

“What for?”

“That doesn't matter,” Samuel replied. “You just do what you're told, and in exchange for that, after a year, you'll be rid of us to run your business however you like. You'll also have a nice little nest egg to follow through on whatever idiotic plans you come up with between now and then.”

“Sounds like a fair trade,” Westin said. “Maybe you should take it.”

“It sounds like you want to turn me into someone like the two of you,” Leo said in disgust. “I won't have any part of that.”

“Maybe you're right,” Samuel told him. “Maybe we do want to turn you into someone like us. Westin, hold his hand up against that wall.”

Westin glared sternly back at him and said, “He's got the message. This don't need to go any farther.”

“Do what I told you. Now.”

Reluctantly, Westin grabbed Leo's left wrist.

“Not that one,” Samuel said. “The other hand.”

Leo struggled, but couldn't get past the two men who'd formed a wall directly in front of him. When he tried to force his way between them, he was roughly shoved back. Leo tried once more to get away, but his right wrist was already locked in a tight grip and Westin's other hand had clamped around his throat to shove him back again.

Pinning Leo to the wall with just as much ease as he'd pinned him to the ground during all of their childhood fights, Westin looked his stepbrother in the eyes and said, “Sorry about this, Leo.”

When Leo looked back at Samuel, he saw a flicker of motion as the gunman's left arm crossed his body to snatch the pistol from its holster. There was a shot that sent a ringing through his ears and a sharp bite of pain from his hand. Leo's eyes darted to that hand to find his middle finger had been blown off.

Without a word, Samuel squeezed his trigger again to turn the next finger on Leo's hand into red pulp. He thumbed back the hammer, paused, and said, “Do what we ask or things'll get a lot worse.” He then holstered the pistol as he and Westin walked away.