The Shopkeeper Page 19

  “How do you know I won’t shoot you when you let go of Dancy to mount your horse?”

  “No more stalling. You’re unarmed. When I get to the door, you tell your man I want to see him throw his rifle and gun as far as he can. Give the orders, or we’ll just call it a night here and now.”

  McAllen looked livid, but he gave instructions to the Pinkerton outside to comply with Sprague’s demands. I was trying to figure out if there was any way I could gain some advantage over Sprague, when Jenny stepped from the shadows into the light.

  “This has gone far enough,” she said. “Captain McAllen, do not interfere with Bill Sprague’s escape.” She took another step toward Sprague and met his eyes. “Sir, you have done me a great service. My husband was a depraved pig. Now I am rid of him and rich to boot. You may go … and you have my word that no one will follow you until morning.”

  “You can’t control the Pinkertons.”

  “But I can set you free,” she said.

  Bang!

  In the small, enclosed space, the gun’s report was magnified to earsplitting intensity. I automatically twisted away from the noise, ignoring the fork in my neck. Before I could grasp what was happening, another gunshot ruptured the tiny shed.

  As I hit the wall with my shoulder, I craned my neck around to see if Jenny had been hit, but the shed was dark. Joe had evidently flinched and turned away from the gunfire, unconsciously lowering the lantern. As he recovered and raised the light again, I saw a smoking derringer in Jenny’s hand. McAllen had instinctively moved to stand in front of the door and block the only path of escape.

  I took in Sprague next. Blood seeped from a chest wound, and a bloodless hole had appeared where his left eye used to be. As I watched, he slid to the floor, leaving two swaths of blood on the wall behind him, one from each of the two places where large-caliber bullets had left his body.

  I heard someone say, “Shit!” and realized that it was me.

  McAllen reached around Jenny and took the gun from her hand. “This work out ’bout the way you expected, ma’am?”

  She took a long look at Sprague on the ground before she spoke. “I only said what I did so I could get close to him.”

  McAllen cocked his head, “To me or to Sprague?”

  Jenny turned to look the captain in the face. “Excuse me?”

  “Why did you bring a gun into the shed against my specific orders?”

  “I forgot I had it hidden in my dress.” She looked back down at the body. “Lucky for us, I suppose.”

  “I doubt that luck had anything to do with it.” McAllen’s voice had a nasty edge.

  Jenny lifted her chin. “What are you implying?”

  Instead of responding, McAllen stormed out of the shed. I touched Jenny’s shoulder and gently pushed her toward the door. As we stepped into the night, I noticed McAllen had marched on toward the house without pause. I stopped Jenny and said, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She gave me a genuinely sweet smile and said, “I believe we’re even now.” And with that, she marched toward the house. Befuddled, I had no choice but to follow.

  As we approached the porch, McAllen came out of the house wearing his gun. He stepped down the three steps and held out the derringer to Jenny. “I believe this is yours.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “You always carry a derringer?” he asked.

  “Since my sojourn in the bunkhouse, yes. It makes me feel safe.”

  “And now you’ve revenged your husband, and the ranch hands know you’re a man killer. You’ve pretty much taken charge.”

  “I only did what I thought was necessary.”

  “Necessary for what?” I suddenly wished I had my own gun, because McAllen looked crazed. “I could have handled the situation and kept both men alive.”

  “It looked to me like Sprague was in control.” There was now an edge in her voice. “Mr. Dancy has done me numerous services. I could not let him die in front of me like my husband.”

  “Your husband?” McAllen shouted. “Like you cared a hoot for him.”

  “Mr. McAllen, leave this ranch immediately and take that carcass with you. I’ll not have you denigrate John. Whatever you may think, he was the first person to treat me well, and I cared for him. Now get off my ranch.”

  “With pleasure. I was on my way to do just that.”

  He immediately marched away toward the shed and yelled for one of the men to gather up and saddle the horses.

  “Captain!” I yelled. “What about Mrs. Bolton?”

  “You escort her in the morning. I’ll leave one man to go with you.”

  Jenny started toward the house, and I stopped her with a couple of fingers on her forearm. “Can I speak to you alone for just a moment?”

  She looked ready to ignore my request but then walked to the corner of the house and stood still until I followed.

  “There’s a new moon, and they’ve been drinking far too much to ride in the dark. This has been traumatic for all of us. McAllen takes his reputation a bit too seriously and said things I’m sure he’ll regret in the morning. Let them stay in the bunkhouse, and we’ll leave at first light.”

  “McAllen’s ridden in the dark before … and drunk too, I suppose.”

  “Perhaps, but if we leave this way, the wounds will fester.”

  Her face softened a bit, and she craned her neck to get a look at my own wound. Noticing her attention, I put my hand to my neck and could feel dampness. “Come in the house, and I’ll bandage that.”

  As we walked into the house, she said, “Joe, tell Captain McAllen that if he prefers, he may stay in the bunkhouse and leave in the morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” And he scurried away.

  While I sat at the kitchen table, she examined my neck wound and said it didn’t need stitches. I enjoyed her attention as she expertly bandaged the cut. I put my hand to my neck. The bandage felt secure. When she stepped back to appraise her work, I asked, “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  “Brothers. Three rowdy ones.”

  I wanted to ask about her family but instead asked, “Are you all right?”

  She looked at me queerly and then said, “Of course.”

  “I just thought—” I let it go.

  “He was going to kill you,” she said. “Released or not. As he said, he had a contract.”

  I suddenly knew she was right. It had been close. Even closer than with the Cutlers. I nodded and asked, “Can you handle things after we leave?”

  “I had good teachers. John built this ranch from a middling homestead. He took me everywhere, and although he didn’t mean to, he showed me how to run his enterprises. His mother taught me toughness.”

  A nasty voice suddenly came from the door. “Is that little gun of yours empty, dearie?”

  We whirled to see Mrs. Bolton standing in the doorway, holding a shotgun.

  Chapter 44

  My hand automatically went to my side, but my gun still hung on a chair in the dining room. Mrs. Bolton saw my futile movement and cackled in a way that made my stomach tighten.

  I heard Jenny beside me speak in a calm voice. “You won’t shoot me.”

  She raised the shotgun. “Why shouldn’t I? Because you killed the murderer of my son? That don’t buy you redemption for stealing everything from me. I have nothing.”

  “Because you won’t kill your grandchild.”

  Mrs. Bolton’s face flashed many emotions but settled on incredulity. With a sneer, she said, “How do you know its John’s?”

  “Because I’m nearly three months pregnant.”

  Her eyes immediately went to Jenny’s midsection. “I don’t believe you.”

  I didn’t know whether to believe her either. My mind raced. Pregnant? What did this mean? Did this dampen my infatuation? What were my expectations, anyway? I had never contemplated marriage, and I certainly had never envisioned a family. What did I want? A tryst? I had never thought it through, but obviously I ne
eded to figure out why I had let my life get mixed up with hers.

  Jenny, on the other hand, remained composed. “Is it so hard to imagine?” she asked. “John and I had a complete marriage.”

  “What took so long?” Mrs. Bolton continued to hold the shotgun in a threatening manner but seemed to aim at some point between us.

  “I don’t know. Certainly not from lack of trying. John was a gentleman, but insistent … and I met my obligations.”

  “You met your obligations? You bitch. A woman should love her man, not see it as an obligation. You’re nothing but a commonplace whore.”

  “I was young when my father sold me. He said it was my duty. No one ever spoke to me of love.”

  “John adored you. You should have returned his affection.”

  “I gave John what he wanted. I don’t know why it took two years, but now I’m carrying John’s baby … your blood.”

  “Damn you!” Mrs. Bolton slammed the shotgun barrel against the doorjamb so hard I was surprised it didn’t go off. She swung the barrel back in our direction. “Why should I care? You’ll never let me see it.”

  “Because it’s all that’s left of John. And … maybe we can work something out.”

  Mrs. Bolton was interested. It showed in her face. “Like what?”

  “You can visit the ranch two weeks a year. When he’s old enough, he can visit you in San Francisco … if he wants to. His decision.”

  “He?”

  “A feeling.”

  This girl that I seemed obsessed with was pregnant. She also intended to live on a ranch in the middle of the barren state of Nevada. I had to come to my senses. While I tried to deal with my shock, Mrs. Bolton showed where her son had come by his skill at bartering.

  “I want five thousand dollars a year as a stipend.”

  “Why should I give you money?”

  “So you can have leverage over me. To keep sweet grandma’s visits cordial and something your child will look forward to.”

  Jenny did not hesitate. “I agree.”

  “Payable in advance. Now, before I leave.”

  “Any other demands?”

  She lowered the shotgun barrel a few inches. “Write the draft now.”

  Without a word, Jenny went to a small fold-down writing table in the corner and withdrew a bank draft. She scribbled for only a moment and handed it to me. Something that approximated a signature appeared below the number 5,000. “Please write the rest,” she requested.

  I moved to the writing table and finished the draft. When I stood back up, I handed the draft to Jenny and turned toward Mrs. Bolton. “Put the shotgun aside first.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  Jenny continued to sound even. “Do you want to see your grandchild?”

  Mrs. Bolton looked torn, but eventually her stern expression melted into her too-sweet smile, and she leaned the shotgun against the wall. “I’m not sure I coulda shot you, anyways.”

  When she stepped forward to accept the draft, I walked around behind her and took the shotgun. She said she was not sure she could shoot us, but I was sure. That woman had the devil in her.

  After she snatched the check from Jenny’s hand, she said, “Are you really pregnant?”

  After a theatrical pause, Jenny said, “Yes.”

  Then I saw a genuine smile on Mrs. Bolton’s face. “And I can visit once a year.”

  “You may … as long as you behave.”

  “The five thousand?”

  “At the end of each visit.”

  “How do I know you’ll continue paying?”

  “I’ll continue to pay only as long as my child wants to see his grandmother.” She paused. “I think you understand.”

  After a moment, Mrs. Bolton said, “I understand.” Then she pointedly looked at me. “Did you know I have a grand house in San Francisco?”

  “No.”

  “It’s in my name. John bought it to get rid of me a couple of months a year.” She turned to Jenny. “It’s in my name, and you can’t take it away from me.”

  “Nor will I keep you from your grandchild if you behave as a grandmother should. I know we can never be friends, but whether we like it or not, we have something that binds us.”

  “Indeed, we do. Whether we like it or not, we’re stuck together.” After she examined the draft more carefully, she added, “McAllen told me about you dispatching that murdering son of a bitch.” She put the draft in her dress pocket. “Thank you.”

  Turning to me, Mrs. Bolton said, “I’ll be ready in the morning.” Just before she walked out of the room, she looked at me pointedly and said, “I love San Francisco.”

  After she left, I said, “That was quick thinking.”

  “I had thought it all out in advance. Even the amount I would offer to pay her each year.”

  I was confused. “But she came up with the number.”

  “I know her.”

  “You thought she would do this?”

  She shrugged. “Or something like it.”

  I began to see Jenny as a different person than I had imagined. I had guessed she was smart, but I had never thought she could be so calculating. I began to suspect there were depths I had still not seen. I had to ask. “Are you pleased to be with child?”

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  She threw the answer out so casually that I was shocked. “You’re not?”

  “No. I’ll write her after she’s in San Francisco. She’ll not get another dime from me.”

  “My God. You planned all this in advance?”

  She said offhandedly, “I’ve lived with that woman for two years. As I said, I know her.”

  She stepped toward me and examined my bandage once more and then added, “I think that looks like it will hold. If you’ll excuse me, I’m very tired.” She extended her hand. “I won’t be up when you leave, so goodbye—and again, thank you. I trust you will keep my confidence during the ride.”

  “Of course. How is she to travel?”

  “Joe’s been told to have her buggy ready at first light.”

  “McAllen wants you to send a hand to bring the buggy back.”

  “No. You drive and leave it at the livery. I’ll send someone to pick it up later.”

  I hesitated. “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Of course.”

  “I was thinking if you sent a hand, he could bring back a tutor. Someone to teach you to read and write and figure.”

  Jenny’s face lit up with the wild exuberance I had seen on that first day at Jeremiah’s. “Yes. Do you have someone in mind?”

  “A woman. Very smart and savvy.” I grinned. “You’ll like her.”

  “Mr. Dancy, that would again put me in your debt. Someone will be ready to drive the buggy in the morning. Thank you, and good night.”

  Having been dismissed, I picked my hat off the kitchen table and started for the dining room to retrieve my gun. Just before I left, I asked, “Was Sprague the man you saw with Washburn?”

  “I never saw that man before in my life.”

  Chapter 45

  When I stepped off the porch, there was just enough light for me to see McAllen step into his stirrup and swing into his saddle. I quickened my pace and came up alongside him. “Why are you leaving?”

  “I already told you. Jeff and one of my men will help you bring that hag to Carson City. We’ll meet up when you get there.”

  “Captain McAllen, you’re still in my employ.”

  “We’ll discuss that when you get to town.” Without waiting for a response, he spurred his horse, and they all rode off, leading a horse with Sprague’s body draped across the saddle.

  With nothing else to do, I walked over to the bunkhouse to find my bed. As soon as I stepped inside, Jeff Sharp got off a bunk and came over to me. He jerked a thumb at the door I had just come through and said, “Let’s get a smoke.”

  I saw my gear on a bunk and went over to grab my pipe and tobacco. The bunkhouse was a single l
arge room with about a dozen beds. Five men sat playing poker at one of the two tables by the door, and a couple of other hands lay on their bunks reading. I looked around before joining Sharp and saw that one bed was off by itself in the corner with a chair and writing table. The foreman evidently did not have a separate room or cabin.

  As I surveyed the large common room, I wondered how many other men had had the courtesy to make themselves scarce during Jenny’s ordeal. No wonder she had developed a hard edge so quickly.

  I was grateful Sharp wanted to talk, because I did not want to think about what I had learned or about my feelings. My previous relationships had all been in New York, with proper young women appropriate to my family’s station and my age. My extended family had shown disappointment when I abruptly broke off from each of the women with little or no explanation.

  I had never put the reason into words, even to myself: I had become bored. Any of those women would have trapped me in New York and in a social circle that scared me. My obligations to family and even my businesses seemed to be overwhelmed by wanderlust and desire to experience new adventures. I had long ago realized that my journal and book deal were just a convenient excuse to leave home and escape the pressures to settle down and establish a family.

  When I first saw Jenny, she epitomized the untamed nature that had lured me away from everything stable and secure. My infatuation and lust had been irrational, compulsive, and indefatigable. Until tonight. Thinking Jenny pregnant and anchored in Nevada dampened my ardor for the first time. She had suddenly become like every other woman that had ever been in my life: a commitment, not just to a person but also to a place.

  Place? I knew I didn’t want to be tethered to New York City, but I sure didn’t want to be tied to Nevada either—especially to a ranch in the middle of nowhere. And Jenny came with both. I knew nothing about ranching and had no desire to learn. Too much work, too little freedom. I shook the thoughts from my head and stepped out into a clear, dark night.

  Sharp must have had an affinity for horses, because I found him leaning his arms across the top rail of the corral, smoking a cigarette. I leaned my back against the rail, facing away from him while I packed and stamped my pipe. After getting a good draw, I turned around and said, “Nice night.”