Authors: William W. Johnstone

A Rocky Mountain Christmas (4 page)

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas

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C
HAPTER
F
IVE

Pueblo—August 4

Jenny was getting desperate. She had not been able to find a job, and she was nearly out of money. She’d paid her rent for August, but if she didn’t find employment soon, she would have to give up her room. Sitting at her desk, she was writing a letter to her uncle, begging his forgiveness and pleading to be allowed to come back to work for him.

She was agonizing over the letter she didn’t want to write when there was a knock at the door. Answering it, she saw a very pretty, elegant woman in her early fifties.

Jenny recognized her. Adele Summers was the proprietor of the Colorado Social Club, a house of prostitution.

“Miss Summers,” Jenny said, surprised to see her. “What can I do for you?”

“I hope it is something I can do for you,” Adele replied. “I’ve heard of your problem, and how the school board, a bunch of ninnies, fired you. I would like for you to come work for me, and I will pay you three times more money than you were making teaching school.”

“Oh, Miss Summers, uh, I thank you, I really do. But I don’t think I could do something like—”

“Hear me out before you reply. It isn’t what you think.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not asking you to be a prostitute,” Adele said. “Not for a minute. I don’t know what you know about the Social Club, but it isn’t your ordinary house of prostitution. We have a very high-classed clientele. I would want you to meet our clients when they arrive, and for those clients who would enjoy such a thing, spend a little time with them, talking to them, having a drink with them, and making them feel welcome. That’s all.”

Jenny thought back to her time working in the grand salon on the
Delta Mist
and smiled. That was exactly what she did then. “You mean you want me to be a hostess.”

“Yes!” Adele replied with a wide smile. “Yes, that is exactly what you would be. You would be a hostess and nothing more.”

Kiowa, Colorado—November 11

A rather short, beady-eyed man with a red, splotchy face and thin blond hair dismounted in front of the Kiowa Jail. Tying his horse at the hitching rail, he went inside. Three men were in the front, two of them in conversation. The third sat behind a desk in the far corner of the room. The sign on his desk read A
DAM
C
ARTER
—S
HERIFF
—E
LBERT
C
OUNTY
.

“Can I help you?” one of the two deputies asked.

“You’ve got my brother in jail. I want to visit him.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ward, Bob Ward.”

The deputy shook his head. “We don’t have anyone by that name in jail.”

“You’ve got Michael Santelli here, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“We have the same mother. We don’t have the same father.”

Sheriff Carter looked up. “Ward? Isn’t there some paper out on you, Ward?”

“Not ’ny more, Sheriff. I was let out of prison two months ago. You can check.”

“All right. Mason, let him see his brother.”

“Take your pistol belt off and lay it on the desk,” Deputy Mason said.

Ward did as directed, then he was thoroughly searched for any hidden weapon.

“He’s clean,” informed the deputy who searched him.

“I’ll take him back,” Mason said.

“Deputy, is there someplace we can talk in private?”

“What do you want to talk in private for?”

“My brother’s goin’ to be hung, ain’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, we may have some private, family things to talk about.”

Mason looked at his boss. “What about it, Sheriff?”

“Has Durham sobered up?” Sheriff Carter asked.

“Yes, sir, I’m sure he has.” Mason chuckled. “He probably has a pretty bad headache, though.”

“He’s the only other prisoner we have right now. Turn him loose. That’ll give Ward and Santelli the whole place alone.”

“Come with me,” Mason said.

Mason took the keys into the back of the building, while Ward followed close behind. Eight cells made up the back of the jail, four on either side of a center aisle. Mason opened the door to one of the cells. “Let’s go, Durham.”

Durham was lying on the bunk. “It ain’t time for me to be turned out yet.”

“You’re getting out early.”

“Damn. Can’t you let a man sleep it off?”

“Let’s go,” Mason repeated.

Grumbling, Durham got up and plodded out of the cell.

“I’ll give you half an hour,” Mason said to Ward as he pushed Durham to the front. He closed the door to the cell area, leaving Ward and Santelli alone.

“Well. My brother has come to see me. I’m touched.”

“They tell me you’re goin’ to hang,” Ward said.

“That’s what the judge said at my trial.”

“So, look, I was thinkin’. I mean if you’re goin’ to hang anyway, why don’t you tell me where the money is that you took from the bank in Greeley?”

“What makes you think I’ve got any of that money left?”

“I know you do. I just don’t know how much.”

“It’s a little over five thousand dollars. I was plannin’ on gettin’ enough money to go to Texas and buy a saloon.” Santelli shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. It’s too bad you can’t do it. So, look, why don’t you tell me where the money is, and I’ll buy a saloon and I’ll name it after you.”

“What do you mean, you’ll name it after me?”

“Well, I mean you’ll be dead. So it’s only right that if I buy a saloon with your money, that I name it after you.”

“What makes you think you’re going to have my money?”

“Well why not, Michael? Like I said, you’ll be dead. What good is that money goin’ to do you, when you’re dead? You may as well tell me where it is. ’Cause when you think about it, me ’n you is the only kin either one of us has got.”

“Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you where the money is.”

“How am I s’posed to do that? There’s only one way out of this building, and it’s through the front door. There’s a sheriff and two deputies up there with guns, and maybe you didn’t notice, but they took my gun away from me before they would let me come back here.”

“They’re takin’ me to Red Cliff to hang,” Santelli said. “That’s a long way, by train. Figure out some way to get me off the train.”

“I don’t think I can do it by myself. It’s goin’ to take three or four people to do somethin’ like that.”

“Then hire them. Promise ’em five hundred dollars each. That’ll leave three thousand for me ’n you to split, half and half.”

“Fifteen hundred sure ain’t like five thousand,” Ward said.

“How much money do you have now?”

“I don’t know. About forty dollars, I reckon.”

“Fifteen hundred is a lot more than forty,” Santelli pointed out.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. All right, I’ll find some people to help me.”

Santelli smiled, then walked back over to his bunk and lay down, with his hands laced behind his head. “Thanks for the visit, Bob.”

“All right. Uh, listen. Just in case somethin’ goes wrong, don’t you think you ought to tell me where the money is? I mean, just in case.”

“It’s up to you to make certain that nothing goes wrong.”

Ward stood outside the cell for a moment longer, frustrated that it didn’t go as he had planned. But at least he saw a way of getting fifteen hundred dollars, and it had been a long time since he had had that kind of money.

“I’ve got a friend I was in the pen with. I’ll get him to help.”

“You do that,” Santelli said in a dismissive tone. It was obvious that, as far as he was concerned, the visit with his brother was over.

Ward walked back out front, then looked toward the desk where he had put his pistol. “Where’s my gun?”

Mason walked over to a cabinet, opened it, then handed it to him.

“Thanks.”

“You’ll need these as well,” Mason said, handing Ward six bullets. “I unloaded your pistol.”

“What’d you do that for?” Ward asked as he started to reload his pistol.

“No. Don’t reload it until you get outside.”

Ward nodded as he strapped on his pistol belt.

Pueblo—November 15

Luke Shardeen sat in the chair at the Model Barbershop, stroking his chin and examining his face in the mirror. It had been three years since he left the sea.

“Would you like a nice-smelling aftershave tonic?” Earl Cook the barber asked as he removed the cape from around Luke’s neck. “Oh, the women all love it,” he added with a smile.

“I have enough trouble keeping women away from me now,” Luke teased. “Why would I want more coming around?”

For a moment the barber was surprised, then he realized Luke was teasing. “Yes, indeed, sir. I suppose a handsome fellow like you would have to put up with a lot of women. It must be quite a burden.”

“Now, who is pulling whose leg here?” Luke asked, laughing as he paid the barber for his shave and haircut.

Cook laughed as well, then he looked around to make certain he wasn’t overheard before he spoke quietly. “Have you seen the new young lady over at the Social Club?”

Luke chuckled. “I’m not one who visits such places. I’m not judgmental of those who do, you understand, but I’m not interested in a woman who will go to bed with anyone who meets her price.”

The barber shook his head. “You don’t understand. This new girl isn’t like that. She used to be a schoolteacher, and they say she is very smart. She is also very pretty.”

“So she is smarter and prettier than all the others. I still don’t plan to pay her to let me take her to bed.”

“Oh, I don’t think you could pay this girl enough to get her in bed,” Cook admonished.

“What are you talking about? Does she work at the Social Club or not?”

“Yes, she works there, but the only thing you can do is have a nice conversation with her. Oh, and maybe have a cup of coffee and some cookies. She’s what they call a hostess. All she does is talk and smile.”

“Do the people who go to the club know that?”

“Oh yes, they know that. And she is still the most popular girl there.”

“How can that be, if she doesn’t allow them to do anything?”

“It’s because like I said. She is one of the prettiest women you’ll ever see . . . and also the smartest. She has a way of talking with you that makes you feel like you are just as smart as she is.”

“You talk like you know this first hand.”

“I do know it first hand.” Cook chuckled. “I’ll tell you true, I never thought I would ever go to a place like the Social Club and not do anything but talk. But that’s exactly what I’ve done, and I’ve done it more ’n once.”

Leaving the barbershop, Luke thought about the conversation with Cook. He had to admit it had him intrigued. He walked by the Colorado Social Club three times before he finally got up the nerve to go inside.

He was met by a smiling, middle-aged, attractive woman.

“Why, Mr. Shardeen, how nice of you to visit us.”

Luke was surprised to hear her call him by name. “You know me?”

“Oh, yes. You own Two Crowns Ranch and have the reputation of being a real gentleman. I make it a point to know all of the . . . let us say
quality
. . . gentlemen of Pueblo. My name is Adele. What can I do for you?”

“I, uh, well, the truth is, this is all rather new for me. So I’m not sure exactly what to do.”

Adele chuckled. “It’s simple enough. I’ll take you into our lounge, where you will see some of our young ladies. All you have to do is pick out one who interests you, and—”

“No. Not that.”

Adele got a confused look on her face. “Then, I don’t understand, Mr. Shardeen. What do you want?”

“I—uh, nothing, I guess. I’m sorry I wasted your time. Please forgive me.”

“Oh, you didn’t waste my time at all, Mr. Shardeen. It was a pleasure talking to you. Please come visit us again, sometime.”

“Yes, uh, thank you. I’ll just go now.” Luke hurried out the front door, just as Jenny came into the foyer.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“That was Luke Shardeen,” Adele said.

“What did he want?”

“I don’t have the slightest idea. And what’s more, I don’t think he does, either.”

Before returning to his ranch, Luke stopped by the post office to pick up his mail. He had a letter from Heckemeyer and Sons, a cattle brokerage company in the nearby town of Greenhorn. Anxiously, he opened the letter, hoping it was the answer he was looking for.

Mr. Shardeen,

Our company would be pleased to buy 500 head of cattle from you at the prevailing market price. Payment will be made upon deliver y of the cattle.

Sincerely,
Anthony Heckemeyer
Broker

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas

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