Six Ways from Sunday Page 3

  Well, I finished up my mug and took a leak in the alley, climbed onto Critter, and headed up a steep hill toward this here Palace Car, which glowed purple and gold in the late afternoon light. It sure was out of place, with no railroad anywhere near. But there it was, on the crest of a hill, lording over Swamp Creek, as if whoever lived there owned the whole place. And maybe they did.

  Well, there wasn’t no hitching post up there, but as soon as I got close, some gunslick with a pair of Colts hanging from his hips butt-forward climbs out of the shadows. I watch him close, thinkin’ maybe he’ll pull one of those short-barrel .45-caliber irons on me, but he simply stared up at me. “The man wants to talk with you. I’ll take your horse.”

  “That’s Critter, and he don’t like bein’ taken anywhere.”

  “I’ll take him.”

  “No, I’ll ground-rein him like always.”

  “I’ll take him.”

  “You tell Scruples I’m not interested,” I said, starting to turn Critter away.

  But this dude, who’s got greased-down hair like the one in town, he grabs my bridle. “I’ll take him,” he said.

  Critter kicked the hell out of him, and the dude dropped to the ground howling, and when he came up he was waving that revolver in Critter’s chest.

  “Lugar, stop.”

  That was Scruples, who was standing on the observation deck at the rear of the Palace Car.

  Lugar, he gave me and my nag one of those you’re-dead looks, and sulked off toward a barn and pen downslope some. I knew he was itching to spray some lead around, and not just at Critter neither.

  “Mr. Cotton, come in.”

  I didn’t really want him to be calling me that, but I wasn’t going to admit to being Mr. Pickens either, so I just marched up them iron steps to the platform at the end of the car, and on in.

  Holy cats, I ain’t ever seen such a place, and I ain’t got the words for it. There was a mess of red velvet drapes sort of pinned up with gold tassels, and shimmery stuffed furniture I think my ma called brocade, and damned if there wasn’t a big old grandfather clock in a walnut case, and Venetian blinds on the windows, and a mess of them books, all leather and gilt, and vases full of daisies and whatnot, and a mysterious hallway along one side that went to other rooms in the railroad car.

  And that blonde, she was nowhere in sight, and I figured it was all for nothing. I’d have given a month’s topgun salary just to see her with her hair down and flowing around her shoulders. But hell, that’s Pickens’ Luck, and if I planned to live a while, I’d better just get used to it. My supply of women was pretty much limited to the red-lamp variety.

  “We like comfort,” Scruples said. “And if this district runs out of ore, we’ll take our comfort with us.”

  He motioned me toward a narrow corridor along one side, and we emerged into a compact dining area with a kitchen at the other end of the car. I warn’t feeling very pleasured by it. This place was full of stuff, like oil paintings on the wall and tablecloths. I’d heard of them tablecloths, but this was the first I’d ever laid eyes on one. This here one was a mess of white cloth laid over a table, just waitin’ to sop up stains. And napkins, too. I’d seen a few of those, but not these white ones sitting in rings of something that looked like silver. Maybe it was pewter. I hardly knew one from another, except it wasn’t gold. But there was gold around there. Them picture frames looked to be gold, and them spoons and forks, the handles was gold anyway. And them plates was purple and gold, like the colors outside.

  Without asking, he poured me some coffee from a fancy jug, or whatever it was, and handed it to me. He poured one for himself, and motioned me to sit, which I did, sinking into a soft leather cushion. I sure had no notion why people lived like that. It seemed a mess of work to me, and no time off to have a beer.

  “We have an investment company that’s buying up mining properties in the district,” Scruples said. “Mostly properties that are delinquent in paying taxes, or have faulty deeds. The problem is, it’s hard to remove the previous owners from our property after we acquire it. You saw exactly what can happen. The loss of four of our men sets back our plans, and we’ll have to push to return to schedule.” He paused. “We intend to own the entire Swamp Creek Mining District.”

  That coffee, I’d never tasted the like. It was like them beans got burnt. It was strong enough to stain the rear end of an antelope brown. But I sort of liked the flavor, and thought maybe if I roasted some Arbuckle’s beans hard before grinding them up, maybe I could do her.

  Scruples, he looked me over amiably, his gaze focusing on me to see how I was responding to all this here stuff, so I just gazed back, wishing that blonde would show up out of one of them closed-off rooms. I didn’t half mind this man Scruples, even if he was as real as a three-dollar bill.

  He smiled. “We lost about half of our work force,” he said. “And that’s where you come in. I’ve made inquiries and found you’re handy at a lot of things.”

  I sort of knew what he was driving at, but long as he was using big words like inquiries, I’d have to sort it out later.

  “You could quickly become a top man with the Scruples Company,” he said. “Maybe the straw boss. We’ve ten or fifteen evictions ahead of us, and then we’ll own every mining property we think has promise.”

  “What’s evictions?” I asked.

  “Oh, persuading people like Mr. Cork it would be wise to pack up and leave.”

  “That’s all? Just talkin’ people into leaving?”

  Scruples smiled in a way as if he thought I was dumber than a stump, and maybe I am.

  “By whatever means,” he said.

  I knew right then he was working around the truth of it with a mouthful of fancies.

  “You mean push ’em out at gunpoint,” I said, “and using them guns if I have to.”

  Scruples smiled. “It’s worth a hundred dollars a month to you.”

  Holy cats, that’s more money than I ever seen before, and it made me itch. But I’d have to use my six-guns to kill people just for hanging on to the mines they started up. I thought about that, and I thought about the two slicks I’d met today, the one near the Mint and the one he called Lugar, and I didn’t much like the idea.

  “I think not, Mr. Scruples,” I said.

  “I don’t ask a second time,” he said.

  I collected my sweaty old hat and stood up, and holy cats, that blonde walked in, and her hair was down around her shoulders, and I plumb stopped whatever I was doing right then and there.

  Chapter Four

  Well, I’d wandered up the hill and dickered with this here Scruples, and there she was, standing there and smiling, and I went weak at the knees.

  “Mr. Cotton,” she said, extending a creamy hand.

  I hardly dared take hold, but I managed it, and pumped away until it occurred to me I oughter stop.

  “I’m Amanda Trouville, and pleased to meet you.”

  I just gawked there, not being in control of my senses, and words just wouldn’t fill my mouth or even come into my poor old head.

  I guess you’d call her a golden blonde. Least, that’s how it come to me. She had that soft blond hair, my ma used to call it dishwater blond because it had a bit of light brown in it, but you couldn’t use that there word, dishwater, on Amanda Trouville. It just didn’t fit. That flesh, my ma used to call it peaches and creamy, and maybe that fit well enough. Peaches, that was pretty good. Her eyes, they were purple, I’d make an oath to it, first purple peepers I ever seen. But that hardly describes her. She was above medium, and curvy, but not too curvy, and well formed, far as I could tell. She wore a simple gray dress, and darned if it didn’t have pleats in it, something I hardly ever seen, and it was unbuttoned a bit at the neck, where that peachy flesh sort of disappeared.

  I was half crazy, and was thinkin’ maybe I’d better just vamoose now that I got a good look. She was a rich man’s woman, and not for the likes of old Cotton.

  “I’ve heard so
much about you,” she said, makin’ me more nervous than I’ve ever got in all my life. What’d she hear? Probably no good, for sure.

  “Do sit down, Cotton. I’ll have some coffee with you.”

  Scruples, he just settled a cup and saucer before her.

  “Cat got your tongue, Cotton?” she asked, and them purple eyes sort of took me in, scraping over me like I had no secrets left.

  “Well, ma’am, I was just wonderin’ how come you’re Trouville and he’s Scruples, or maybe I’m just getting myself into more trouble here.”

  “Oh, we’re not married, Cotton. We’re partners. We’re equal owners of an enterprise. We’re in business together.”

  Well, there’s business and there’s business, and I didn’t dare ask what sort of business.

  “Our company’s called Transactions, Incorporated. Carter and I believe that all of life’s a transaction.”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know one end of that word from the other.”

  “Oh, of course you do. Transactions are agreements. We believe in negotiating agreements with others, and that’s how we live. Our personal arrangements are a transaction. I am his lover and he supports me. He pays me a thousand dollars a month to go to bed with me. But it’s not an exclusive contract. I am free to made my own arrangements.”

  I was getting mighty flustered here, and I sort of thought maybe I’d gotten into something I couldn’t get no handle on. I thought there’s married people, and people who go to whorehouses, and people who work in whorehouses, and I didn’t know anything else was floating around except old maid schoolmarms.

  She didn’t look mean neither. I always thought them women were hard as a Dutch oven, but her gaze was sweet, and she had little smileys around her eyes. I sure couldn’t make no sense of her, but I didn’t have to. Every time she shifted around, all I could think about was what was hidden from my poor eyes.

  Carter Scruples, he must of seen me making moon eyes, because he sorta took over.

  “Amanda, Mr. Cotton doesn’t think he’ll join us.”

  I hated like hell to be called Cotton, that not being my real handle, but I just shut up and smiled.

  I’d gotten what I came for, a look at this here blonde, and I figured it was time to get out.

  “I’m on my way, sir.”

  “Oh, don’t go!” Amanda said. “We need you.”

  I didn’t have no answer to that. Truth is, I didn’t much care for this Transactions company and what they were up to. I think she read it in me, because she started in on me.

  “Our company’s going to control the Swamp Creek Mining District quite soon, Mr. Cotton. There’s the two big mines, and all the outlying ones. The big ones are proven, and have lots of reserves, but the smaller ones are only now being explored. We pick up the rights to them at auction, mostly because their claims are faulty, and it’s going to pay off. The claims on the two big mines, they’re both faulty, too, and we’ll have them in a few months. But we need professional staff, good men who’ll help us. That’s where you fit in.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you, ma’am.”

  “It’s miss, not ma’am. The last thing I want from life is marriage.”

  “What is it you want, ma’am?”

  “Lovers,” she said.

  Me, I get dizzy mighty quick, and I was getting plumb loose on my pins just then. I looked at old Carter, and he was just smilin’ away like he’d heard it all before.

  Scruples just smiled. “You probably don’t approve of us. It doesn’t matter. We make a fair offer on the smaller mines, some of them hardly proven up, and if the owners resist, we apply some muscle. We certainly don’t want anyone to get hurt. Usually, a little show of force is all that’s needed. And then we record a new claim that’ll stand up. We’ve gotten five smaller mines that way, and we’re having them evaluated. Some will be worthless, and that’s why this business is a risk. But once we have the small operations up and running, and get a revenue stream going, we’ll tackle the Big Mother Mine. That’s the crown jewel of Swamp Creek, and it’s yielding a clear profit of half a million a year, with no sign of pinching out. And the Fat Tuesday Mine’s not far behind.”

  He was making it sound like some regular business deal, far as I could tell, but I got to remembering what old Agnes Cork told me, all about Brashear, the crooked clerk for the district in cahoots with this bunch, and it wasn’t so regular at all. And all them gunslicks out there at the Cork place, they were fixing to kill old Agnes and take over.

  I got to my feet, and pushed that fancy cup and saucer away. “I guess I’ll go collect Critter and head down the hill,” I said.

  “Wait!” she replied.

  I didn’t much care to, but I thought I’d hear her out.

  She came right up to me and peered into my eyes. “I guess we’re not paying you enough,” she said. “So here’s some incentive. Each time you clear out the squatters from the mines we’ve got, you can spend one night with me.”

  That hit me in the pit of my stomach. I could hardly manage it.

  “Each success, one night. I think you’d like that.” She smiled. “I’d like it, too.”

  I sure was getting into places where I ain’t been, and I couldn’t hardly make sense of it.

  “Your hundred a month, plus your pleasures,” Scruples said cheerfully.

  “How come me?” I blurted.

  “Because of your big gun,” she replied, and laughed sweetly.

  My mouth, it was so parched I couldn’t hardly reply. She smiled and beckoned me to one of them rooms in the Palace Car I’d not seen when we were going from rear to front. I followed her to a door, and she opened up, and there was a small but fancy bedroom with a big old bed in it, and just room enough to get around in there. It sure was a purty place, with lots of quilted stuff and things like that, but that’s not what caught my eye.

  Above the bed was a big long oil painting of Amanda, spread out on some sort of couch I hardly ever saw before, and she wasn’t wearing a stitch. She was just lying there, all golden colored, with a little smile on her face, and her lips parted a little, and the rest of her sort of waiting for the evening to begin. I just plain stared, not having seen anything like that, not even in some saloon, where they got naked ladies in paintings, but them ladies usually got some gauzy thing sort of protecting them a little. But not Amanda. All of her was just plain caught in oil paint, and I took off my hat and stared.

  “Well, all right, I guess I’ll do her,” I said, pushing aside all them objections that’d been crowding in my mind.

  Just one night, I thought. I’d get some old miner to move along, and have myself just one night with her, and just the thought of it made me want to get the job done in two seconds.

  “Then we have a transaction,” she said.

  I wasn’t so sure what all that was about, and must have showed it.

  “There are a few details still to be worked out,” she said. “But it’s clear enough, isn’t it, Mr. Cotton? For each trespasser you remove from our mining properties, you get one night, and only one, with me.”

  She smiled. There was more in her purple eyes than business.

  “I’ll get right on with it,” I said.

  She motioned me to the cozy parlor at the rear of the Palace Car, where Carter Scruples was waiting. He had donned one of those neck scarves, danged if I could remember the name, but ascot came to mind from something I’d read. First time I’d ever seen one.

  “I’m glad, Cotton,” he said. “You have certain valuable skills we happen to need.”

  He meant I knew how to handle a gun, which I sure did.

  “You just give me a list,” I said.

  “Well, we need to look at a few details before this is finalized,” he said.

  I knew it. There was always a few strings. You cut a deal with someone, and next thing, they’re adding a few strings. It’s the damndest thing how a deal gets worked upon after the handshake, and not before.

  He eyed me
cheerfully. “Once you’re in our employ, you’ll follow our direction without cavil.”

  I sure didn’t know what a cavil was. “I don’t have any cavils,” I said.

  “Objections. You’ll proceed agreeably as directed. Agreed?”

  “No wiggle room?”

  “You can always discuss it with us, if you think something won’t work. We’re not some sort of Prussian militarists here.”

  “What if these here people I’m evicting get excited, like Agnes Cork?”

  “You will remove them by whatever means.”

  “And confiscate their property,” Amanda added. “We consider it payment for rent.”

  “What else?”

  Scruples frowned slightly, as if a little bit perplexed by the human race. “It sometimes happens that someone wants to abandon his agreement with Transactions. We can’t permit it. Once you’re in, we expect absolute loyalty until such a time as our goals are reached. The earliest you can seek release is one year from today.”

  “That’s a long time some fella can’t even quit.”

  “Then don’t join us.”

  But Amanda, she was winking at me and fooling with a button.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “If you should betray the trust we place in you, you will be considered to have gone over to the other side, and we will deal with you.”

  That riled me some. “I’m not some switcher, and there’s no call for you to accuse me. I join up with some brand, I’m loyal to the brand. I got one other question. You got the same deal with the other ones, the fellers out there in the barn?”

  “Our arrangements are confidential, and that applies to you, Mr. Cotton,” he said.

  “You mean I can’t even open my mouth?”

  “Exactly,” said Scruples.

  “Just so you know,” Amanda added.

  “We’ve built our company on agreements we’ve entered into by our own free will. If you agree to this, it’s by your own free will,” Scruples said.

  He was sure talkin’ like some lawyer, but there was Amanda, her eyes bright, and that wasn’t no pout on her lips.