Deadman's Lament (The Deadman Series Book 1) Read online

  Travis and Hoss chuckled. “Nah, that’s a mine, Sheriff. Somebody found himself a nice hole and now he’s got men working it for him and some Pinkertons to guard the cash.”

  Hoss leaned over sideways and spat in disgust. “May as well be a prison, I reckon. I swear, some of those poor fools get treated worse than any jailbird I ever heard of.”

  Matthew stared at the sorry sight for a moment and then shook his head. “Let’s go!” he barked and spurred his horse into a trot, leaving the mine and the men working it far behind.

  Chapter 21

  Southern Comfort

  Matthew and his deputies stepped inside the brothel. It was neat and almost painfully clean. A Negro man was playing guitar in the far corner and four women sat in the parlor—two on a red brocade couch and two in matching gold armchairs—smiling enticingly at the newcomers.

  The posse had arrived yesterday afternoon with the intention of grabbing any outlaw that had the misfortune to show his face. Unfortunately, no one matched the description on Matthew’s warrants. In addition, the sheriff did not realize how close the brothel was to the mine’s entrance gates…one hundred footsteps away at most and filled to bursting with pedestrians.

  Matthew knew that an all-out snatch and grab would not work here so he and his team spent the night sleeping on the ground with their stars hidden away out of sight. Earlier that morning they had reconnoitered the little town, trying to gain information on the criminals’ location without giving up the fact that they, themselves, were actually lawmen.

  The stories were true, though; it sounded as if two or three members of the Mad Hatter gang showed up every other day or so to terrorize the whores, the miners, and even the local businessmen. Matthew also heard that the outlaws were picking unnecessary fights with the natives, mainly Crow and Nez Perce tribes who were already at war amongst themselves.

  Retreating back to their makeshift camp, Matthew and the deputies decided to visit the whorehouse and ask some pointed questions like who exactly was doing the damage and what their names were. The sheriff had already decided to put the criminals in jail whether he held a warrant for their capture or not.

  Matthew couldn’t stand how the “Hatters” were not only robbing people of all their possessions but seemed to enjoy inflicting as much pain as possible while perpetrating their crimes. The owner of a small mercantile grew agitated as he recounted being robbed a month earlier.

  “They just mosied in like they owned the place and started taking whatever they wanted off the shelves,” he said. “Then, when I picked up my shotgun to chase ‘em off, they shot me in the arm, came around the counter, grabbed my little girl Sarah, and held a knife to her throat! She is just a child!”

  “Now,” he continued, “I don’t put up a fuss at all when they come in. I just ignore them while they rob me blind.” Using his apron to sweat off his face, he glared. “What I want to know is where is the law around here, huh? My wife and I settled in this area because it seemed to be one of the more civilized places in this godforsaken country. But I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any sheriff or marshal!”

  Matthew stood still and fought the impulse to tell the man that his wish was coming true…that five lawmen were standing smack dab in front of him right now. Feeling his deputies growing restless behind him, he simply tipped his hat and said, “I am sorry for your troubles, sir. Tell me, do you happen to know what time that fancy house up the road opens for business? My boys and I have been on the trail for quite a while and would like to work the kinks out, if you know what I mean.”

  The man almost grinned. “Not until 6:00 pm, I hear. They are new to town and it seems like a pretty respectable place for what it is. Even the missus is impressed since they close down on Sundays and every one of them heads to the chapel to hear the word of God.”

  It was just after six in the evening now, and Matthew and the rest of the posse stood just inside the brothel’s doorway. It was a good house, newly built with a small bar, a parlor and a stairway leading upstairs to the bedrooms. Matthew was just about to speak to one of the painted ladies when the Negro man stopped playing his instrument and walked over to them.

  He was an attractive middle-aged man with dark curls and luminous brown eyes. When he spoke, his southern drawl was as sweet as honey-wine. “Welcome to my establishment, gentlemen. My name is Antoine Robecheau.” Looking at them in turn he smiled and added, “Five men…voila! I just happen to have five, beautiful ladies. One for each of you.”

  Matthew only counted four women and was about to say that he and his men were there for information rather than the man’s wares when the most beautiful creature he had ever clapped eyes on walked slowly through an adjacent door. He heard Roy catch his breath and felt the other deputies stir behind him.

  Matthew had never visited the southern states but he suddenly recalled his Uncle Jon’s stories about some of the Creole courtesans—octaroons—he had seen and danced with when he was a younger man. He said they were the most exquisite females on the planet with pale but dusky skin, soft black hair and full breasts.

  Well, he thought, I must be looking at one right now. Matthew stood up straight and tried not to let his desire show.

  “Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” Roy muttered and Matthew silently agreed.

  The woman was dressed in a beautiful rose-colored chiffon gown. The neckline of her dress showed her silky, cafe au lait cleavage and her hair fell past her hips in wild abandon. Wide, brown eyes tilted up at the corners with mischievous mirth and, when she smiled, her teeth were as white and even as piano keys.

  Those eyes appraised Matthew from the top of his hat to the tip of his boots and then she crooked a long jewel-laden finger at him and beckoned. Matthew hesitated for a moment, then turned to his men. He tried not to let any of them catch his eye as he said, “I think it would be best to spend a little time here, don’t you? For information and the like.”

  Three of the deputies were already fishing in their pockets for cash; apparently, they didn’t mind staying and sampling the wares in the slightest. Music rose in the corner where Antoine was now playing the harmonica and the sound of southern blues filled the air as the prostitutes wound their arms around the men’s bodies, smiling up at them in welcome.

  Matthew didn’t like to study himself and his own behavior too closely but he knew that something—a piece of his own heart—was hidden away from most people. He had not allowed himself to fall in love, ever. The closest he had come to letting loose of his tightly-held reservations was when he was with Iris Imes.

  He was not, however, a virgin. He enjoyed a steady arrangement with a young woman in Spokane Falls named Madeline Barrows…a pretty thing with long, blonde hair and twinkly blue eyes. Although Madeline seemed to enjoy his company well enough, there were other men in town who could—and did—pay far better than Matthew Wilcox ever could so she never shed a tear when he left.

  It had been months since his last visit, though, and he realized that his wits were not as sharp as they should be. His loins ached with longing and his nerves were stretched taut with tension as the beautiful Creole woman stepped up close to him, gazed into his eyes, and whispered, “My name is Chloe Robecheau. Come with me, cher.”

  As Matthew walked slowly up the stairs, he looked down and saw Travis and Roy sitting close to the brothel owner; Travis nodded at the young sheriff and winked as if to say, “Good. You need the knots worked out of you…”

  He noticed the other deputies pairing off as well and then he was behind closed doors, losing himself in the jasmine-scented softness of Chloe’s body.

  As Matthew and the prostitute’s bodies joined together in ecstasy, a different type of meeting was taking place fifty-five miles away. Top Hat was ready to make his move. He had assigned half his crew to worry the citizens of the Idaho Panhandle and a few other men south to the Oregon Trail vicinity.

  “I want you men to do your best work while I’m gone on business. Steal what you can and get as much i
nformation as possible…and try not to get into it with the natives. I’m telling you, I have enough money to bail you out of trouble with the law but the Injuns ain’t interested in cash,” he lectured.

  “And try not to kill anyone either, goddammit! Like I said, I can buy you out of most things but not the hangman’s noose if a circuit judge grabs you.”

  He stared at each of his gang members and added, “The point of all of this is for you to create as much of a dust-up as possible while I circle around from behind and remove the man who threatens us all.”

  Taking off his dirty old hat, he scratched his jug-handled ears. “Normally, I would take out an enemy like that with one shot, but I’ve been doing some studying on the matter. Seems that the man’s family is rich and his uncle, Jonathon Wilcox, is friendly with the Washington Territory governor and a few other fat cats out of D.C. I’m afraid if we approach this situation head on, we’ll just get our own heads nipped clean off.”

  He put his hat back on and grinned. “So we’re going in sneaky-like. Ike, Chollo, and me will take that pesky uncle out while you harry the sheriff and his posse here in Idaho territory. Pretty soon he will know the concept of steppin’ out of the way of bigger men than him!”

  The men burst into cheers at Top Hat’s final words. He allowed them to puff up and celebrate for a moment, then he shouted, “Shut up! I got a few more words to say and then you can get on your way.”

  When the men stood before him in silence, he continued, “Fair warning, fellas. This young sheriff is a fair shot from what I have heard. He is also good with a sword, for fuck’s sake! I thought those things were out of style by now.” He shook his head. “Still, a sword will kill you just as sure as a bullet, so step sharp. He’s a game rooster, as are the deputies he’s traveling with, so be careful. I don’t want to leave and take care of business for this outfit just to come home to a bunch of dead men. Got it?”

  Reminding them to rendezvous in Libby in three weeks, he watched as they gathered up their belongings and rode out of the encampment.

  Three men remained with him: Ike Nelson, Chollo Gonzales, and Levon Smithers.

  Top Hat had just finished smoking his cheroot when Ike murmured, “Do you really think they are good enough to stay ahead of Sheriff Wilcox and his deputies?”

  “Nah, we’ll lose half of ‘em, at least. They are like a bunch of rodeo clowns, dressed up in funny clothes and waving ropes in the air but that’s alright.” Top Hat stared into the setting sun as the others digested his words.

  Finally, Ike asked, “You starting up a new gang, Boss?”

  “Yep,” Top Hat murmured. “Got one lined up already…couple of men from my old outfit and a new boy who just made his way up from Tennessee. That one can shoot anything that moves from three hundred yards away with his Sharp’s rifle.”

  He sat forward and spat a piece of tobacco leaf into the fire. Turning to face his trusted lieutenants, Top Hat added, “We’ll drop that Jonathon Wilcox from such a distance he won’t even know what hit him before he’s standing in front of the pearly gates.”

  Chapter 22

  A Fact Finding Mission Gone Wrong

  Later that evening, Matthew approached Antoine, Chloe’s brother and business partner. Earlier, he had told the beautiful courtesan who he and his men were and stated their intentions, watching as she wept with newfound hope. Once Chloe told her brother the news, Antoine promptly locked the door for the night after pinning a note on it stating there was influenza in the house and that they were temporarily closed for business.

  The siblings confirmed what Matthew had heard about the Mad Hatters’ activities but, if anything, the whispered rumors didn’t do justice to the real damage being perpetrated on the Robecheaus, their property, and the surrounding area.

  Once a week or so, assorted members of Top Hat’s gang swept into town robbing, pillaging and terrorizing the beleaguered citizens. Matthew already knew about the mercantile but he didn’t realize just how bad things had gotten for everyone else. Rapes were common and many of the miners were now afraid to venture forth from their tents and hovels for fear of being set upon by outlaws.

  The whorehouse, however, attracted the most attention. Seeing the newly constructed building and correctly assuming the Creoles possessed some wealth, the Mad Hatters focused most of their energy there. All of the girls had been repeatedly beaten and denied their agreed upon fees for services rendered; twice, Antoine and Chloe were held at gunpoint while the outlaws ransacked the house searching for hidden cash.

  Unfortunately, the Robecheaus could not find their own muscle. Prostitution was not illegal, but brothel owners usually did not enjoy traditional police protection and were expected to employ their own security. The Pinkerton men were no use; they were too busy guarding the mine owner’s precious metals to be distracted by the Robecheau’s plight. The soldiers at the fort were preoccupied as well, rounding up Indians.

  Most of the strong-arm men in town had already fled the area, unable and/or unwilling to be gunned down by the gang’s overwhelming force. This left the Robecheaus alone and at the Hatters’ mercy.

  Antoine’s eyes were shiny with frustration as he spoke to Matthew and his posse. “We don’t ask for much,” he whispered. “We come from Louisiana as free niggah’s with a little money we saved from our younger days. Me as a music man and my little sister as an Octaroon fancy girl. We come all this way to run an honest business—a pleasure house for gentlemen—not to lose all our savings to outlaws.”

  Matthew replied, “We are sorry for your troubles, Mr. Robecheau, and we are trying to help. We have come to take these criminals to trial but we need a little help. Do you think you can keep our identities hidden for the next few days, just until the gang shows up again?”

  Both Antoine and Chloe smiled. “I will tell my girls to stay quiet. They will be happy to do so if they know they will no longer be beaten and robbed,” Chloe said.

  Antoine added, “We have a room…it is small but perhaps you all can stay there hidden, oui?”

  Turning to his deputies, Matthew saw them nod in agreement. Then Chloe stood and ordered her girls to move cots and pallets into an upstairs bedroom while Matthew asked his men to gather their belongings and bring them into the house, watching as they stepped outside to move camp.

  The older man gestured and said, “Come wit me, Sheriff, please. I have something to show you.”

  He followed Antoine into the front parlor and watched as he picked up his fiddle. Turning around, he handed Matthew the musical instrument and said, “Look!”

  Staring at the front and the back of the violin, he finally spied a tiny dowel close to the neck of the instrument. Glancing at Antoine, he silently asked permission and received a smile in return. Sitting down as Antoine closed and locked the back door leading into the parlor, Matthew took his pocketknife and gently inserted the tip into a grove by the dowel.

  It took some doing as the piece was firmly anchored into the polished wood but he finally lifted the closure. The back of the fiddle came off in his hands and rolls of cash spilled into his lap and onto the floor. Matthew looked up into Antoine’s gleaming brown eyes.

  “You see?” he said softly. “Those bandits have not taken everything from me, no.” His lips twisted as he added, “I always try to have my little fiddle in hand when the robbers come so, if the worst happens, my sister can start over with some money.”

  As the sound of hurried footsteps rushed past the parlor’s closed door, he continued, “Since we are now the mouse who fights the cat…yes?” he grinned. “I wanted you to know where the cash is so Chloe will be taken care of if I am killed. Also…” He bent down and picked up one of the rolls of bills. “This is for you and your deputies.”

  Matthew shook his head but Antoine held one hand in the air. “I insist, Sheriff. We all need money, no? I would not have it said that Antoine does not reward his own angels.”

  There was a knock at the door and they heard Chloe call out,
“Antoine…Sheriff, may I come in?”

  “Just one moment, cherie,” Antoine responded and then bent over, stuffed the fiddle with cash again and fastened the instrument closed. Placing it gently on a little wooden stand, he walked to the door and opened it.

  “Come in, sister. The sheriff and I were just making plans for what is to come. Will you join us?”

  Chloe stared at her brother’s face, then at Matthew for a moment, before she sat in one of the matching armchairs.

  “So what is this plan? she asked.

  Two nights later, as six o’ clock rolled around, Matthew and Roy sat at opposite ends of the small bar and waited for guests to arrive. It was past time for Top Hat’s men to show up…almost a week had come and gone since their last visit. However, one of the girls—an older blonde from Kansas named Gloria—reported seeing three of the worst Hatters down at the mercantile earlier that day so the Robecheaus expected the outlaws to stroll in anytime.

  One of the warrants had looked familiar to the girls and the brothel owners but they assured Matthew and his deputies that there were at least five criminals who showed up on a regular basis. They also assured Matthew they would make sure the lawmen knew who the criminals were.

  Two times, Chloe answered a knock on the door and both times the sheriff knew that these were simply customers. One was an old man who immediately asked for a girl who looked young enough to be his granddaughter. Chloe confessed that the man—whose name was Denny Smith—usually asked for a foot massage and liked to talk about his children and grandchildren who were apparently back home in the Texas region.

  The other customer, although quite young, looked and smelled like a cowboy or a shepherd. He stood in the front parlor, hat in hand, as Gloria got up, saying, “This one is mine, girls.” Then she took him by the arm and said, “We need to get you washed up, son.”