Devlin's Curse (17 page)

Big Jim backed up in horror. “Peabody, Goddammit! What the Hell happened!”

Lance Peabody sneered. “Devlin and his bitch gave us the slip! Git dressed. I know where their headed and there ain’t no time ta waste.”

Big Jim nearly choked on his fury. “So! This is all just a friggin’ fornicating mess!”

Daylight blinded Esmeralda.

After what felt like hours and miles of struggling through dark airless mining tunnels they finally saw light ahead and burst out at the far end of Chinatown. Perspiration dripped down her face and her feet were torn and blistered inside her fancy heels. She swayed and would have fainted if Dahlia had not grasped her arm.

“Hold on, Miss Esmeralda, we needs ta get ya to the salon.”

“No, that is the first place they will look for us. We need somewhere else to hide until we can get word to Jamie.”

She took a sharp glance up and down the narrow street. Chinese men and women dressed in dark silks and long braided ponytails bustled here and there. They gave her and Dahlia curious stares from under their pointed straw hats. Once again she was hunted as bait for Devlin’s enemies. She needed a place to hide but she did not dare go to Grandfather Woo. She couldn’t be sure about his involvement in this evil scenario.

The decision was taken out of her control.

The bustling crowd of Chinese parted and a muscular young man blocked her path. She reached for her pistol in the pocket of her skirt. The young Chinaman held up his hand and smiled. His features, under the tight silk skullcap, were vaguely familiar.

“No, no. Missy, you come with me.”

“Who are you? What do you want with us?”

Esmeralda pointed her gun at his chest.

He made a slight bow.

“Chow Woo, Kuong is my brother,” he said.

“Did Grandfather send you?”

“Yes, and you must come quickly.”

Esmeralda wavered. His dark eyes were open and transparent. A quick read told her she could trust him.

Dahlia did not.

From her garter she took out her fancy derringer and held it at waist level. “How do we know he ain’t lyin?”

Esmeralda lowered her own pistol. “He’s not. He’s one of Grandfather Woo’s sons. We will be safe.”

Dahlia sniffed. Still suspicious, she put away her gun. Both of them followed Chow as he escorted them through a twisted rabbit warren of an alley. At the end of the alley they found themselves at the back of the herbalist shop. Chow knocked on the door and grandmother immediately opened it. 

She waved her hands to invite them in.

“Come, come,” she said.

Esmeralda and Dahlia stepped into the dark interior lit only by hanging paper lanterns. They were led to a couple of rooms that were obviously the Woo’s living quarters. Esmeralda looked around to see the small rooms, furnished in oriental splendor, with silk couches and dark lacquered furniture.

Grandfather entered through a beaded curtain at the far end of the room. He was still dressed in his scarlet silks and he puffed on his pipe. He examined Esmeralda and Dahlia thoughtfully.

“You cannot go home; you must leave this town. The Devil’s maggot is searching for you.”

“How do you know this?  How does he know we escaped?”

“Chow is his manservant. News of your Lord travels fast. A messenger came to Big Jim’s house at sunrise. He heard Big Jim scream like a swine.”

“And Devlin? What have you heard? Is he alive?”

Grandfather shrugged. “This, I do not know. I know there was a fire in the mine and that your Lord has killed many of them.”

Esmeralda and Dahlia exchanged glances. “Can you get us to Carson City? We can catch a train from there, and Grandfather Woo please, Devlin must not know where I have gone,” Esmeralda said.

Grandfather Woo nodded. “My grandson Yang will take you. Come, we must hurry.”

Grandmother then led Esmeralda and Dahlia into a small bedroom in the back of the herbalist shop. She went over to a black lacquered armoire, opened it, and pulled out some dark silk garments. She motioned for them to put them on.

Esmeralda and Dahlia shed their torn dresses and put on the strange garments. The silk pants and long tunic felt foreign but at the same time loose and unrestricting. They covered their hair with scarves and straw hats. Afterwards Chow led them out through the alley. A donkey cart, driven by a skinny boy, stood waiting.

He handed them up into the cart. “Yang will take you down the hill to Carson City.” 

Esmeralda thanked him and reached into a pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small purse. She tried to press some gold coins into his hand but he waved her away. Yang slapped the reins and the cart abled off towards C Street and Gold Hill. 

They did not notice the bent figure of Wing, a tattered crow, standing in the shadows.

Inside the herbalist shop Grandmother knelt down at a small altar that was set up in the corner of the shop. She bowed her head as she lit a fresh stick of incense, filled a small bowl of rice and then placed it before the goddess statue. She prayed to Quan Yin, the mother goddess of all mankind, to protect the white women and all of Virginia City from the demon.

Grandfather watched her from behind the counter as he continued to puff on his long pipe. When Grandmother got up from the altar he took a scroll of parchment out from underneath the counter and studied it.

“May the Gods hear your prayers, Grandmother. The stars are not auspicious this night.”

“I have seen you and our sons in the demons lair.” she said. Her gaze was still on the altar and the goddess. “It will fall to you to kill it, the fate of the Jaing Shi, their Lord has not been made clear to me but you, my husband, must not fail.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bait

T
he goddess of good fortune had just spread her legs for Wing. He had loyalty to no one. As slippery as an eel he made a business out of playing both sides against the middle as long as he ended up with money in his hands. 

When he saw the two women loaded onto the donkey cart behind Woo’s shop he knew that the opium eater in the filthy coat would pay him in gold for that information. He hurried out of the alley and shuffled his bones up to D Street and the shanty where “Buffalo Hide” stayed.  He overheard yelling and cursing from inside and gingerly scratched on the door.

Peabody himself, a burnt and blistered horror opened the door. He pinned Wing with his one good eyed the other one hidden by a seeping linen patch.

“What the Hell!” he said.

Wing gave him a toothless grin. “Wing have information, you pay.”

Lance grabbed him by his collar and pulled him through the doorway before he could utter a squeak.

“Spill it ya old turd!”

Wing straightened his clothes and then held out a grimy hand. “You pay Wing, chop, chop!”

Lance shrugged. He dug into a pocket of his scorched coat and came up with a gold coin. He tossed it at Wing. “It had better be worth it,” he growled.

The old man caught it in midair and tucked it away into his ragged pajamas. “Two women come out of the back of shop of that blister on Budha’s backside, The Imperialist Woo. They take cart driven by grandson Yang to Carson City”

“White women?” Lance asked. Wing nodded. “Hot Damn! Are ya sure?”

Wing nodded again several times. He waved his arms. “White women, white women. One with the Devil’s hair.”

Lance Peabody grinned. He reached into his coat and whipped out his bowie knife. Wings eyes bugged out with fear.  In less than a second Lance had stabbed the old Chinaman in the gut. When Wing crumpled to the ground clutching his bleeding stomach. Peabody snatched up the gold coin before he stepped over him like a piece of offal.

That will make damn sure the old shit heel does not sell back his information to Devlin Winter.

“Much obliged,” he sneered.

Wing writhed on the floor as Peabody yelled for his crew to saddle up.

Esmeralda and Dahlia led by Grandfather’s young grandson ambled their donkey cart down past Gold Hill and across the Stagecoach route at the south end of Silver City.

The teenage boy Yang pulled the cart across the road just as a southbound stage rounded the curve.

Yang stood in his path and waved frantically.

“Stop, stop mister!”

The stage driver, or what was commonly referred to in the West as a
Jesu
, stood up and lay back on the reins. “What in the gol’ darn tarnation! Clear the damn road!” he yelled.

When Yang did not budge the stage driver was forced to bring the team to a swerving stop a few feet from the donkey cart. Cigar clamped in his teeth and whip in hand he shouted. “Move yore damn cart or I’ll blast ya outta the way.” He reached for his shotgun and pointed it at the cart.

Yang bowed furiously. “No, no. Missy need ride, must go to Carson City, chop, chop!”

The driver eyed Esmeralda and Dahlia in their Chinese silks. “I ain’t takin up no Celestials, an the roof is loaded to the gills. No siree, you just get a move on, son.”

Yang crossed his arms stubbornly. “No, Missy need ride, big hurry get to Carson City.”

Esmeralda stepped down from the cart. She and Dahlia whipped off their straw hats and scarves. The scarlet flag of Esmeralda’s hair blazed in the noonday sun. She lifted the edge of her tunic and took out her pouch of gold.

“What about gold? Would that change your mind? I have five hundred dollars in gold and it’s yours if you can take us to Carson City.”

The hard bitten visage of the driver softened. He was struck by Esmeralda and Dahlia’s beauty. He smiled as he eyed the pouch of gold. He relented. “Well then William Lightfoot’s the name and I reckon you ladies are in a sorry fix. Hike yourselves up here an I’ll make room fer ya.”

Esmeralda pressed a gold coin into Yang’s hand along with a word of thanks before they climbed into the stagecoach. Once the door shut it lurched forward into a full trot once again. They rolled on towards Carson City sandwiched between four other passengers.

Esmeralda finally released the breath she’d held, it seemed, since their flight from Virginia City. “We should be safe now Dahlia. Once we reach Carson City we will book passage to San Francisco.”

Dahlia pouted. “An what about Devlin? He ain’t gonna just let you just slip away.”

Esmeralda turned her head and looked out the window. What about Devlin? The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and a chill ran down her spine. She would not go back and she would pray to the gods that he understood. Understood, that without her, Big Jim would have nothing to hold over him. Still, her heart felt squeezed, pulverized with the pain of her love for him. Tears blurred her eyes. The wind from the open window stung her eyes turning them into tiny rivulets.

A shot rang out.

She and the other passengers jumped in their seats. They sat forward and then strained to look out the window behind them.

They are coming for us!

She could see it in her mind’s eye as she gripped the leather strap held on for dear life and prayed to the goddess for the horses to outrun them.

As if conjured by Esmeralda’s vision a large cloud of billowing yellow dust rose around a bend in the trail. Ahead of it rode Peabody, Big Jim and a posse of gunmen galloping down the road towards the stagecoach. They did not see Yang, where he hid in the bushes, his hand covering his donkey’s muzzle. Instead they pounded on past him and down the road closing rapidly on the lumbering stagecoach.

The driver of the stagecoach looked over his shoulder and saw the gunmen. He also knew now, that bushwhackers pursued the coach. He reckoned the men galloping after him where out to rob and murder them.

“Stand ready,” he said.

The Mexican man who rode by his side lifted his shotgun. He cracked the whip and the horses sprang into a full gallop. Esmeralda and Dahlia, along with the other passengers, gripped the leather straps and whatever else they could to steady themselves. Esmeralda could see the burly form of Peabody galloping ahead of his posse of gunmen.

Dahlia’s eyes went wide. “The Zombie!” She and Esmeralda pulled out their pistols. The other passengers, two men and two women, either took out guns or held on for dear life. 

A hail of bullets whizzed over the stage, across the backs of the galloping team and drilled into the coach. Lightfoot and his shotgun rider looped the reins over their arms, cocked and fired at their pursuers.

One of his bullets grazed the rump of Big Jim’s horse causing it to buck. Big Jim an indifferent rider at best was thrown over its head where he rolled into a ditch at the side of the road. The other riders scrambled to avoid crushing him under their horses’ hooves. Peabody wrenched his poor beast to a halt. He cursed foully. He pulled out his Sharps buffalo gun from the leather boot and steadied it over the pommel of his saddle. With his one good eye he squinted down the sight then fired.

The load from the buffalo gun blasted William Lightfoot from his perch like the kick of a mean mule. He fell sideways taking his shotgun rider with him. They bounced off the back of the right wheel horse and then into the road. The team panicked and bolted out of control. The stagecoach began to fishtail and crash from side to side. In a matter of seconds it hit a tree stump and went airborne. When it slammed back on the ground it teetered to one side then rolled over. The cross braces splintered and the frightened team broke free and ran on without it.

The passengers screamed. Esmeralda was thrown through the window, out of the coach and onto the road. Stunned, with the breath knocked out of her, she could hear the sound of the stagecoach crash as it rolled over and over.

Her vision went completely black. She slid off the cliff of consciousness. Then, as if coming out of a long tunnel, she heard the voice of Annie.

“Get up gal! Get up!

She struggled to fill her lungs with air. When she opened her eyes the dark figure of Lance Peabody loomed over her. She tried to move, to scramble away, but her limbs would not obey her. A heavy boot came down on her stomach pinning her to the rough ground.

“Ya ain’t going nowhere’s, Devil’s Whore.”

Esmeralda blinked, through blurred vision she saw Big Jim come up beside Peabody. He was covered with dirt and a large goose egg sized bump was forming on his forehead.

“Dev…Devlin will kill you,” she gasped.

He grinned. “Not so high and mighty now Miss Esmeralda Jones. Your nothing but a fancy piece of ass, bait for that friggin’ gambler Devlin Winter.”

Anger gave her strength and she squirmed out from under Peabody’s boot and scrambled to her feet. She pulled a knife from her garter and drove it into Peabody’s bloody eye patch.

He roared like a wounded bear but still managed to grab a fistful of her hair.

“Bitch!” He knocked her to the ground then loaded her limp body over the pommel of his saddle like a sack of grain and, he and Big Jim, headed back to Virginia City.

In the stagecoach, underneath the pile of broken and moaning bodies lay Dahlia. She pushed the dead weight of a man off of her. A well-dressed gentleman, whose neck had been snapped like a twig, she rolled him to the side so she could move. Her right shoulder was wet with blood where a giant wooden splinter pierced it. She grimaced with pain as she pulled the bloody splinter out. She needed strength and she needed to feed. Through the shattered door of the upside down coach she could see that evil sack of shit, Peabody loading Esmeralda onto his horse. A faint moan came from one of the women passengers. Dahlia did not need to think twice. She crawled over to woman, ripped open her high necked gown, then she bit into her neck and sucked furiously.

When Devlin, Walking Ghost and Jimmy reached the train station it proved to be a dead end. They discovered the two women had not boarded the train for Carson City.  Furious, but at the same time baffled, Devlin was overwhelmed with a sense of urgency. He had no time to retrace his steps. At any moment Peabody and Big Jim could have their foul hands on his Angel. He had to think calmly. There were only two ways out of Virginia City, the north towards Reno and the south to Carson City, and then on to San Francisco. If they had not travelled by train they must have caught the stagecoach.

He swung himself back up on Mephistopheles’ back. “Mount up, if we hurry we can catch the stage at Silver City.”

Jimmy and Walking Ghost did not say a word. They both mounted up as well and the trio charged down the street towards Gold Hill and Silver City.

Minutes later, when they galloped down the hill past Silver City to the open road, they spied the overturned stagecoach. Devlin’s heart contracted as they got closer and closer to the broken and ruined heap. He pulled his stallion to a halt. Bodies lay strewn and bloodied. Some people lay partially in and others partially out of the collapsed Concorde coach.

He dismounted and kneeled down to examine the bodies. They were all dead. He could not see Esmeralda or Dahlia. He stood up and looked back down the road. A rustle in the nearby bush made him draw his gun.

“Come out! Come out or I’ll pepper you with lead!”

A pale face poked through the brush.

“Don’t shoot, it’s me Lord, it’s Dahlia”

“Damnation Dahlia! What happened here?”

As Dahlia squeezed through the brush he noticed her strange attire, the costume of a Chinese woman. He also noticed the large bloody stain over her right breast but ignored it.

Her gaze met his.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“She’s been taken by the Zombie and that peckerwood Big Jim.”

Devlin grasped her arm. Which way did they go?”

“They went to the mine. Ain’t no other way for them’s ta go.”

Devlin lifted Dahlia up and set her behind Jimmy on his sturdy mare. He could not leave her on the road and there was nothing that could be done for the other passengers of the stage. He would send help back later.

They pounded back to Virginia City.