Payton's Woman (24 page)

Betsy Collins stood near
him, her ebony cane held high over her head. Someone intervened; it looked like
Gerald Baxter. He stepped in front of the fallen man, and Betsy backed away.

Two others assisted the
man to his feet. Blood trickled down his forehead from his scalp. He stumbled
across the yard with the help of the men and crawled into a carriage. Many of
the guests followed after them and left in their own conveyances.

Olivia Baxter hurried
across the lawn to her. “My dear, I want you to leave with me now. We can send
for your belongings later.”

“What’s happened? Did
Mrs. Collins strike that man with her cane?”

She waved her hand
through the air, as if the details were unimportant. “A terrible scandal has
erupted. It’s not good for you to stay here.”

“A scandal?” she repeated.
“It’s a little late for that. I thought everyone knew she’d owned a brothel
before she moved here.”

“It’s worse than that.
They’re calling her a traitor. It’s come out that her son was involved in
selling guns and cannons to the Confederacy. They suspect she’s also involved.”
Olivia slipped her arm around Julia’s waist and guided her across the lawn. “Several
families in Sacramento lost loved ones during the recent rebellion. They’re
accusing her of making a profit from their deaths.”

Julia knew exactly how
they felt. Her own brother had been killed so Dunbar and Hennigan could make a
profit.

When she realized Olivia
lead her to a carriage, she resisted the effort. “I’m sorry, but I cannot go
now.”

“You can’t stay here. It
may become dangerous. Threats have been made. I don’t want you caught in the
middle of a vicious fight.”

Olivia had no idea the
danger in which she was involved, but Julia didn’t want to cause her more concern.

“Payton will be back in
a few days. I’m certain that when he returns, he’ll take me away from here, but
I can’t go right now.” Another week was all Julia need. She felt certain Dunbar
would contact his mother soon.

“Oh, my dear, I worry
about you so.”

“Nothing is going to
happen to me.” She put her arms around the lady and gave her a hug. “I’ll come
and visit tomorrow after church.”

Olivia nodded before joining
her husband at their coach.

Julia looked around at
the deserted yard. Betsy and Sylvia stood by themselves. A few people lingered
near the tables, but she felt certain once the supply of liquor vanished, the remaining
guests would also leave. She headed into the house. Marcel needed to stop the
food preparation. The guests were gone, and the festive garden party had come
to an end.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Payton stood in the open
doorway of the Double Eagle Shipping Company. When Nicholas Stover saw him, his
eyes opened wide. He rushed toward him, grabbed Payton’s arm, and jerked him into
the office. Stover leaned out the doorway. His head darted about in all
directions before he straightened back up. Still holding Payton’s arm, he shut
the door and pulled him along a corridor to an office in the back. He collapsed
into a chair behind the desk. Only then did he seem to take a breath.

The man’s frantic
behavior worried Payton. The message he’d received from Stover requested he
come to San Francisco right away about a matter of mutual concern. His gut
reaction, after being dragged though the office, told him the matter was Lawrence
Dunbar.

Stover grabbed a half-f
liquor bottle from the bottom drawer. As he poured a goodly amount into a
coffee mug, whiskey sloshed onto the papers strewn about his desk, but he didn’t
bother blotting it away. His hand trembled as he raised the mug to his lips.

In a single gulp, he
downed the contents. He slapped the empty mug on the desk with a thud, flopped
back in the chair, and let out long sigh. “I’m not a drinking man, but I needed
that.”

“Is this about Dunbar?”
Payton asked.

Stover’s head came up
with a snap. He reached for the whiskey bottle but didn’t pour another drink. “I
wish to God it was. Then maybe all this dirty business would be over with.”

He felt his forehead
wrinkle as his confusion increased. If this wasn’t about Dunbar, then what had put
Stover into such an uproar? He grabbed a chair and took a seat. “Why don’t you
calm down and tell me what this is all about?”

Stover clutched the
whiskey bottle in his hand and held it on his thigh. “A man came in here a few
days ago. He knew old man Hennigan was dead and wanted to talk with the widow.”
His gaze darted to the bottle balanced on his leg. He leaned forward and
grabbed the cork.

“What did he look like?”
Payton asked.

He shoved the cork into the
bottle and stowed it back in the drawer. He plopped his elbow on the desk and
placed his chin on his fist. His eyelids narrowed. “He was a little weasel of a
man.”

Payton let out a heavy sigh.
He could see Stover’s anxiety, but he needed specifics. “Can you tell me how he
looked? Was he tall? Short?”

“His name was Ritter.
And that description fits him.” He glanced at Payton. “Do you know him?”

“A little weasel?” He
mulled the image over in his mind. “Dunbar had a second mate that might fit
that description. Seems he had a piece of an ear missing.” He touched his right
hand to his ear. “No, the left side.”

“That’s him.”

“Do you know what he
wanted with the Widow Hennigan?”

“Blackmail.”

Payton sat up straighter
in the chair. “She told you that?”

“No.” He shook his head
vigorously. “I wouldn’t let him near her. Told him she was in seclusion due to
her grief, and he’d have to talk to me.”

“Appears as though he
talked,” Payton speculated.

“He demanded money.
Otherwise, he’d go to the law.” Stover relaxed back in his chair. “He proceeded
to tell me all about the old man’s illegal activities. I pretended like I didn’t
know anything. Said it didn’t matter because the company was going belly up,
and the widow didn’t have any money.”

“The company’s going broke?
Has the scandal about Hennigan’s activities gotten that bad?”

He made an attempt to grin.
“I exaggerated to Ritter, but it’s only a matter of time. The widow is in debt.
She wants out and is selling the company cheap just to pay the bills.”

“How did Ritter take the
news about there not being any money?”

“Not good. I told him to
go to the authorities if he wanted.” He let out a bark of laughter. “I knew he
won’t get within ten leagues of the law.”

Stover’s voice lowered
to a hush. “Problem is, I’m not certain he believed that I didn’t know
anything. He threatened me.”

“He threatened to
blackmail you?”

He shook his head. “Threatened
to kill me. He claimed the old man had a bundle of money stashed away somewhere
that belonged to Dunbar. He seemed to think I knew where it was.”

Payton was tempted to
ask if he knew, but from the frightened look on his face, he figured that wasn’t
possible. “Why didn’t you go to the law yourself if you’re that concerned about
him?”

“I thought about it, but
then I decided to send for you. If Ritter thinks the old man had money that
belonged to Dunbar, the only person who could’ve told him was Dunbar. That
means if he shows up in San Francisco—”

“Dunbar will be looking
for the money, too,” Payton finished for him.

“Exactly,” Stover said.
“And that’s what has me worried. I thought with the old man dead, Dunbar wouldn’t
have any business here, but now I’m not so certain.”

“I see your point. I’d
assumed that with Hennigan dead, Dunbar’s mother would be the only person he
could get money from. That’s why I went to Sacramento so I could keep an eye on
her. But this changes everything. If Hennigan stashed money somewhere that
belonged to Dunbar, he’ll come here instead. He may not even contact his mother
until later.”

“What do you think we
should do?”

“I guess the first thing
to do,” he said as he rubbed his hand over his chin, “is learn all I can about
that little weasel Ritter.”

****

Payton took a deep
swallow of the cool beer and slammed the mug on the table. For the last two weeks,
he’d navigated up and down the Barbary Coast trying to find anything he could on
Ritter. He’d wandered around, going from one tavern to the next. A few men had
seen Ritter around, but knew very little. One piece of information mentioned
was the man kept to himself and didn’t have any friends.

But persistence rewarded
Payton. Last night, Ritter had stumbled into the tavern where he waited, but Payton
didn’t approach him. Instead, he’d observed him from a distance in order to learn
everything he could before pressing him for information. He wanted to find
which taverns Ritter frequented, were he lodged, and how he spent his money—if
he had any.

The night had been very
productive. The only cash he had was what he gained by picking pockets or
rolling drunks. He didn’t gamble and didn’t buy his own drinks—unless he had no
other choice. A few times, when he seemed hard pressed, he’d strike up a
conversation with a stranger and pretend to know him. Occasionally, the person
would buy him a beer. But his usual manner to get a drink without paying was to
slither around the tables or bar until someone walked away. He’d sneak in and
grab the unguarded drink. Then he’d quickly down the contents. Stover’s assumption
of him seemed accurate. Ritter fit the description of a little weasel.

Payton scratched at his
unshaven face with his fingernails. The beard stubble irritated his skin, but
he couldn’t shave. In order to gather information, he needed to blend in with
the other men. Rumpled clothes and the start of a beard made him look like any
other seaman waiting for a ship. He’d even donned a black knit cap instead of
his captain’s hat to help act out the part.

Tonight, he waited for
him to reappear at the tavern. The lodging house where Ritter spent his nights lay
only a block away. Most of the men in his circumstance paid twenty-five cents a
night to sleep in a room with a half-a-dozen bunks and the same amount of men.

Ritter chose to pay
twice that amount for a single room so he could have privacy. He appeared to be
a man who wanted to remain invisible, which struck Payton as odd.

He speculated that if
Dunbar was in town, Ritter wouldn’t have been so brazen as to attempt to extort
money from Hennigan’s widow. He’d insinuated to Stover that a bundle of money had
been hidden somewhere. That took a lot of brass to demand the money for
himself. Payton suspected he knew when Dunbar would arrive. From the way he
acted, that moment edged closer.

But Payton grew tired of
waiting. Minutes turned to hours, and still the little weasel hadn’t appeared.
His patience ran thin. Hanging out in a tavern all night didn’t appeal to him.
The beer he drank dulled his mind, but not his desire. He longed to be in the
arms of the woman he loved.

Julia was his wife.
He
mulled the thought over in his mind. He’d written their names in the log book,
making it official.

‘Til death do us
part.

He didn’t want to be away
from her. The thought of Julia alone in Sacramento and living under Betsy’s roof
tormented him. With a silent prayer, he hoped she remembered her promise to
stay out of trouble.

While he’d been hanging out
in the taverns, an idea had rolled around in his head. He recalled what she’d
said about men always returning to the sea and leaving their loved ones behind.
Once he finished this business with Dunbar, he never wanted to leave her again.
If she wouldn’t go on his ship, then he’d stay with her. He loved the sea, but
he loved her more. That’s why he’d made arraignments to buy the Double Eagle
Shipping Company. The transaction would be complete in a few more days. Once
the Double Eagle belonged to him, he’d have a profession that would allow him
to be involved in the activities of the sea, but still be near Julia.

He and Nicholas Stover
would be partners. Payton had provided the majority of the money. Stover’s
contribution would be to teach him everything he knew about shipping. Together
they’d rebuild the reputation of the Double Eagle Shipping Company.

Because he’d used his
savings to buy the company, his available cash had dwindled. He stayed at the
Double Eagle in the office Hennigan had converted into a bedroom, although it
reminded him of a bordello. Later he could find a suitable house to rent. He’d
bring Julia to San Francisco to live with him as his wife. But he didn’t want
to wait. Being without her put him in agony. He wanted her with him now.

Payton hoisted the beer
mug and drained the contents. Just as he considered going to another tavern, he
noticed Ritter sneak in through the door. The man slunk around the perimeter of
the room so he blended with the shadows. Now was the time to find out how much Ritter
knew about Dunbar, but he had to be careful how he made his move. He didn’t
want to frighten him off. The poor man looked scared enough already. Payton put
a stagger in his walk as he wandered over to the bar.

“Whiskey.” He slapped a
silver dollar on the bar to make certain he attracted Ritter’s attention.

“Hey, mate.” Ritter slithered
up beside him. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Payton knew this ploy.
He’d seen it used at many taverns. A man would claim to be a long, lost friend,
or shipmate in the hope of getting a free drink from a man with a poor memory. He’d
use it to his advantage. He laughed to himself as he recalled honing his
playacting skills with Julia. She’d found him so believable that she suggested
he go on the stage. He wanted to be just as convincing with Ritter. His eyes
crossed into a blurry stare. His head bobbed around as though too heavy for his
neck.