Blaze! Hell's Half Acre Page 2

  He rode into the clearing and dismounted. Dropping to one knee, he traced over the marks in the dirt with his finger.

  "Definitely quite a fight here." He stood and walked around. "One shot at the other from ambush. The holes in the tree limbs came from the man in the clearing firing back, maybe with a rifle." He spun and looked over his head. The height was right for a man fanning the rounds as he fell forward. He cocked his thumb and forefinger into a fake gun and estimated how the rest of the fight went. Without hunting for other bullet holes, he could only guess.

  "I've found something, J.D."

  He walked to the center of the clearing, turned in a full circle, then found Kate partially hidden just beyond the tree line. From her vantage point astride her paint horse, she saw what he had missed on foot. The grave hadn't been dug deep enough to keep the animals away. Coyotes or wolves had pawed away the few rocks placed over the body. A human hand, now more bone than flesh, thrust up as if trying to escape the cold certainly of a grave. Small animals had chewed away the best parts.

  "I suppose we ought to dig it up to see what Deputy Davis did with his return fire. It looks as if a man with a rifle ambushed someone coming into the clearing."

  "Or," said Kate, "the deputy came up on the outlaw and surprised him. The man in the clearing used his rifle."

  "It didn't do him a bit of good. From the blood spilled there, he got ventilated good and proper."

  J.D. took a deep breath, then began scraping away dirt and rock the animals had left behind. He unearthed a torso.

  "Three holes in that fancy leather vest," Kate said. She bent over and ran her fingers over the left front over what had once been a beating heart. "That's curious."

  "What? Wait, here's what he had in his vest pockets." J.D. dumped out a shattered watch on a gold chain, a Masonic emblem on the chain and a scrap of paper. He kept rooting around, then pushed away more rocks and loose dirt. "What's really curious is that he doesn't have any pants."

  "Or boots. Do you think the deputy took them? They don't pay lawmen much, but that's a theft I'd expect from a road agent and not a lawman."

  J.D. frowned. The corpse had been stripped of its boots and jeans. The watch and chain had been ignored because they were broken and cheap. He ran his finger over the chain. A gold flake showed it wasn't more than a gilt-plated simple iron chain. The leather vest was almost new but the holes, three bullet holes and two smaller ones, kept it from being something anyone, even a man inclined to rob the dead, would have taken.

  "Somebody else might have come by. The other outlaw?"

  "What's on the piece of paper?" Kate looked over his shoulder as he spread it out. "It's part of an envelope. Can you make out who it's addressed to?"

  "All that's left is the town and a bit of the street. No name or number."

  J.D. held it up, his mind working over the tidbit of information.

  "This is a street in Hell's Half Acre over in Fort Worth. Somebody was going to send a letter but this is all that survived the gunfight."

  "How do you know? It says 'houn Street, Fort Worth' and nothing more."

  "There's a Calhoun Street in Fort Worth, and it's smack dab in the middle of Hell's Half Acre."

  "How did you come by that information, J.D. Blaze? Have you been frequenting bawdy houses there? Which ones?"

  "I know a lot of things, but that doesn't mean I've had anything to do with soiled doves or—"

  "So you know this is a brothel?"

  "I don't know anything but that the actual address might be there. The railroad depot is farther south, and there's a gas works and all kinds of legitimate, honorable businesses."

  "So this could be a gas bill, but you immediately thought of a whorehouse filled with hussies." Kate stamped her foot in anger.

  "You're jumping to conclusions. I—"

  He cut off his protestations of innocence and put his finger to his lips. When she started on a new tirade he put his finger on her lips. She pushed it away and started to protest. He kissed her hard to silence her. He moved from her lips to whisper in a shell-like ear, "We're being watched. I had the feeling out on the trail, but now it's stronger than ever."

  "Are you sure this isn't your way of avoiding my questions?"

  He kissed her again, swung her around and let her look over his shoulder in the direction of the clearing. She struggled for a moment, but he held her tight. She settled down and then pushed away from him.

  "You're right. Somebody's out there, just on the other side of the clearing."

  "We can pretend to argue and see if our spy tries to get closer."

  "Pretend?" Kate stiffened in his arms. "I'm not pretending. I am mad. You've been to a whorehouse, and I didn't know about it. When were you there?"

  "When was the last time we were in Fort Worth?" he swung her about so he could find the small movement in the bushes across the clearing. The man spying on them moved a little but wasn't going away. If he had been a rider whose chance sighting of them had startled him, he would back off and vanish toward the road. Whoever was over there intentionally watched them. The only one that could be was Three-fingers Frank Bell.

  J.D. settled his thoughts and got ready to shoot it out with the outlaw. They had clashed before, but neither of them had come out on top. This time would be different.

  He edged Kate back into the thicket. When he was sure the trees hid them, he spun and drew his six-gun. She broke free and slid her own piece from its well-greased holster. On a good day she could match him and maybe a tad more. That was better speed than any other gunslinger they had hunted down. J.D. wanted to keep it that way.

  He pointed her off to the left while he circled right. Keeping low forced him to rustle through the bushes. He began moving in a jerky fashion to keep from showing a definite progress. Let the man watching them think it was nothing more than a soft breeze moving through the thicket. Perhaps a small fox or rabbit would rush forward, hesitate, then move at a different speed. J.D. didn't care what the man thought as long as he didn't open fire.

  Halfway around the clearing, he stopped to see if he could spot Kate. She moved even more stealthily than he did. If she made a sign, he would strike, trying to draw out the watcher. Using himself as a target gave her a better shot. Breath sucked in until his lungs almost exploded, he waited for her sign. When it came, he let out the air and almost sagged down in relief.

  Popping from the brush, he swung his six-gun around hunting for a target. A tiny glint of light off the front sight of a rifle hidden away in shrubs gave him all the target he would ever likely get. He squeezed off a round. Then he fanned off three more rounds, tearing through the leaves and sending splinters from blown apart limbs flying.

  His reward came in the deafening report from a rifle. He dived and skidded along the ground on his belly, trying to sight in on the sniper. From across the clearing Kate opened fire, tearing more leaves from the bush where he had already blown apart a few limbs.

  They were reenacting the deadly fight that had left one outlaw in a grave and a deputy all shot to hell and gone.

  "Come out! We've got you in a crossfire!" Kate shouted her warning again. Nothing happened.

  J.D. added his order to his wife's. No response. He had two rounds left. Making the most of them required boldness. He got his feet under him and rocketed forward, ready to use those slugs to end the life of anyone foolish enough to oppose him. Crashing through the bush brought him onto a game trail. He looked one way and then the other before turning his muzzle upward as if his quarry had taken to the trees.

  "Where is he?" Kate came up to stand beside him.

  J.D. hated to admit it, but they had let their tracker escape.

  "I don't know what became of him, but I've got the feeling this won't be the last time he turns up like a bad penny." He slammed his Colt into the cross-draw holster and put his arm around Kate's shoulders, steering her out of the woods and back to their horses.

  It took her only a few seconds to pick up
the argument about him and whorehouses in Fort Worth.

  Chapter Three

  "This is a mighty slim clue," Kate said. "All we have to go on is you knowing where a whorehouse in Fort Worth is."

  J.D. knew better than to argue. They rode along at a steady pace. He wanted to double around to see if they had a tracker, but Kate wanted to press on. That suited him fine because, if they had a shadow following behind, he would show up eventually. It still irritated him that they had failed to catch him back at the robber's grave, but the unknown man had been to agile, too fast and too slippery getting away easily. A few quick shots traded would have helped them find the other owlhoots, if they had winged him. The Blazes always got their prisoners to talk, come hell or high water. As it stood, they were blindly following a hunch. The scrap of paper with the address might mean anything. For all they knew, they might be riding straight for the gas works or some other business that gave them no help finding the bank robbers.

  "We'll be riding Main Street before you know it." In the distance rose a dusty haze showing where the city snuggled down on the prairie. So many people going about their daily chores kicked up quite a cloud. It wouldn't be more than a half hour before the town's pungent smell blew across the prairie to warn them of civilization.

  "Does that connect with Calhoun Street?"

  "It does have some mighty fine hotels."

  "How much money do we have left?" Kate eyed him sideways. From the set to her body, he knew what the answer had to be.

  "Enough for a few days. It won't take us that long to either get on the trail or find out it's a dead end."

  "I could use a bath."

  "And a bed. A nice, soft bed," he said.

  "Whatever might that be used for?" Her mood lightened as she teased him. Playing along suited him just fine since she had been so glum for the past couple days. There was little enough in the way of solid evidence to give any hope of finding the robbers.

  Another hour's ride brought them to the three-story brick hotel. A sign drawn with gilt lettering outside proclaimed eighty first-class rooms. From what J.D. saw from the street, this wasn't a boast but a simple statement of fact. The fragrance of wood polish wafted from the lobby to chase off the earthier street odors. And inside he was greeted with an ocean of walnut furniture, every piece shining to perfection. He stopped and lifted on his toes, sinking back as he took it all in. This was, indeed, a first-class accommodation.

  "That is the finest Brussels carpet, sir." The doorman held the portals with the stained glass panels open for Kate, even as he eyed J.D. closely.

  J.D. had felt such scrutiny before. The doorman was more like a bouncer than anyone at this hotel would admit. His job was less to open the doors for the ladies than it was to keep out the riffraff and prevent them from disturbing the paying customers. The calculation in the man's eyes almost made J.D. laugh. He stared at Kate, her trim figure covered with dust from the trail and an iron hung on her shapely hip that had seen hard use. The contradiction of beautiful woman and deadly six-shooter gave him pause and made him leery of chasing out a trail bum.

  "It's almost a shame to walk on such a rug," J.D. said, pulling the doorman's attention away from Kate for a moment.

  In spite of his words, J.D. strode confidently across the deep-pile carpet to the registration desk. If he didn't act as if he belonged, the doorman would come to the conclusion that, accompanied by Kate or not, the interloper had to be removed. J.D. placed both hands on the counter and looked down for an instant to see his reflection. The walnut had been polished so heavily that it had turned into a mirror better than most in most hotels where he had hung his hat for a night.

  "Reservation for Blaze," he said. Kate came up beside him and smiled winningly.

  The clerk looked at their ragged clothing and attempted to keep a neutral expression. He almost succeeded.

  "I don't see a reservation under that name, sir."

  "Oh, J.D., did you use one of those, what do you call it?, nom de guerres?" She leaned over and, sotto voce, explained to the clerk, "We're on a special assignment. The head office must have made the reservation under a different name."

  "Headquarters?" In spite of himself, the clerk was intrigued now.

  "Pinkerton. Out of Chicago. That's our main office." J.D. saw that this impressed the clerk, who rummaged through the cards with reservations with more interest now, trying to find the nonexistent booking.

  "I know all the guests who haven't yet arrived. They are prominent ranchers in the area. Or a businessman who travels. He owns several banks in Texas."

  J.D. considered adding that they worked for a Wichita Falls bank, then decided too much of the truth diluted the lies. He let Kate complete the task of getting them a room in the posh hotel.

  "If the director didn't make the reservation as he said, that leaves us no other choice but to send him a telegram." She sighed heavily, her breasts rising and falling delightfully under her shirt. "This would have been a perfect spot for us to work from. Almost as good the Palmer House, I should say."

  "You are familiar with that hotel?" The clerk licked his lips, glanced around to see if anyone overheard, then leaned over the counter. "What's it like? I've heard it is the finest hotel in the world."

  "In the world? Well, perhaps. We spent so little time in London at the Great Western Royal it is difficult to make such a comparison."

  "The Pinkerton Agency will pay for the room?"

  "I'm sure they are prompt in payment when billed," Kate said. "We can give a special code which will insure immediate attention, if it comes to that. But I do hope it won't. We are trying to remain, well, not undercover but certainly discreet while we make our inquiries."

  "I have a suite on the third floor. Our finest. Your investigation will require your use of the room for..."

  "It's hard to say. Two or three days," J.D. said.

  "Perhaps longer, unless the suite is reserved." Kate smiled winningly. It melted the clerk's reluctance. It did more than that for J.D. He could hardly wait to get to the suite and close and lock the door to be alone with his wife.

  "If your stay is pleasant, you'll be sure to recommend the El Paso Hotel for other agents?"

  "Mr. Pinkerton himself would be delighted to stay here," Kate assured him.

  J.D. signed the ledger with a flourish.

  "Our horses require tending."

  The clerk snapped his fingers and brought the doorman running. A few quick words were all it took for the doorman to rush to stable the horses down the street at a wagon yard.

  "Your saddlebags will be brought to your room. Do you have other luggage?"

  "Not yet," Kate said breezily.

  "The bellman will see you to your room."

  Another liveried man rushed over and escorted them to the elevator. The cage creaked and clanked to the top floor. From below in the basement a hydraulic engine whirred and hissed in its effort to lift them to the top floor. J.D. couldn't help smiling. This beat hiking up stairs after a long day in the saddle. Arms linked, they followed the bellman to a room looking out onto Main Street. J.D. looked down on the people in the streets. A mule-drawn trolley headed south—in the direction of Hell's Half Acre. That would be their destination soon enough, but not yet.

  "Will there be anything else, sir?" The bellman pointed to a youngster who lugged up their saddlebags. From the way he stood expectantly, J.D. knew what he wanted.

  He drew out a silver dollar and gave it to the bellman. From the sour expression, the man had expected more. It had to do because J.D. knew there wasn't much more left in that vest pocket to finance their hunt for the bank robbers. The bellman withdrew. J.D. locked the door and turned around to study the room.

  The furnishings were brand spanking new, and the room smelled good. A smile curled his lips when he saw the big bed with the feather mattress—and the half naked woman sprawled on it.

  Kate had dropped her gun belt and kicked off her boots. Her shirt had vanished as if by magic a
nd her chemise joined it. She rocked back, supporting herself on her elbows. She slid her feet up so her legs formed a gunsight, pulling his gaze in and holding it on target.

  As he went to the bed, J.D. shucked off his gun, coat and vest. By the time he stood beside the bed, Kate had lifted her rump off the bed and skinned out of her jeans. She tossed them aside and then squirmed out of her undies to lie gloriously naked, waiting for him.

  "Do a striptease for me," she said. Her fingers slipped down her body and worked into the fleecy triangle between her legs. She sucked in her breath as she began fingering herself. Bright brown eyes fixed on him. He felt the heat, hers, his own.

  With a slow turn he slid his suspenders off his shoulders, then began unbuttoning his jeans. One by one the buttons on his fly popped open and then he gasped in relief as his manhood slid free of its cloth prison.

  "Enough." Kate sat up on the bed and scooted to him. Her hands circled his hips to pull him closer. Her lips closed around him and began working passionately. She made gobbling sounds as she took more and more into her mouth.

  J.D. stumbled around as his knees went weak from her oral attention. Her tongue found all the right spots on his sensitive underside. He hadn't thought it was possible to get any harder. She proved him wrong. He sank down and sat on the bed as she bent, following him down. With slow strokes, he moved over her back, outlined each bone in her spine, then farther to cup her firmly muscled rear end. She made different sounds encouraging him to continue. His fingers parted the fleshy globes and worked down the gash to find the moist paradise where her fingers had played to entice him earlier.

  His replaced hers. First a middle finger, then an index finger, then he began twisting about, slowly, lovingly. He almost lost control because of the increased action all around his hard length. He excited her, and she passed it along. Then she pulled free of him with a wet sucking sound as she smacked her lips. Looking up, eyes half-hooded, she whispered, "I want you, lover. I want you now."