Apache Summer sb-3 Read online

  beautiful hooked rug, was a. large, soft, brown leather sofa. It sat

  next to the fire, with matching chairs across from it and occasional

  tables beside it. There were bright Indian flower vases on the tables.

  There were flowers in the vases, and Tess smiled. Hank and Jane had kept

  up, no matter what.

  "Well!" Dolly said.

  "Now this is nice! Tess, where would you like us to stay?"

  "Oh!" She had forgotten that even though Jamie Slater had ridden away

  the moment they arrived, she had other guests to attend to.

  "I'msorry. Upstairs, Dolly. Hank, we can wait a while on the other

  things, but let's bring up Dolly's trunks. Come up, please!" She urged

  Dolly and Jon forward.

  When they reached the second-story landing, they looked down a long

  hallway with doors on either side and a big-paned window with velvet

  draperies at the end.

  "There are eight rooms up here," she murmured.

  "We shouldn't be wanting."

  Jane, who had followed her up the stairs, cleared her throat softly.

  "Tess, your room is aired, and Joe's room is 123 aired, and I just

  happened to air the back two, but I haven't touched the others yet. I

  was getting around to them, but then when we heard ... When we heard

  that both you and Joe ... Nothing seemed to make much sense anymore."

  "That's all right," Tess said.

  "But we'll nee~l linens and all for Mrs. Simmons and Mr. Red Feather.

  Can you see to that? We'll put them in those two rooms you aired."

  "What about the lieutenant?"

  "I believe he's staying in town. And should he wander back, well, he can

  wander into the barn."

  Jon made a choking sound, then laughed. Dolly gave a little gasp.

  Tess didn't care. She walked grandly down the hall.

  "Dolly, this room here is more appropriate for a lady, I think.

  There's a big dressing table in here, and the light is wonderful in the

  morning."

  "It is just wonderful!" Dolly said delightedly.

  "I love it!" She caught Tess's cheeks between her plump hands and gave

  her a kiss on the cheek.

  "I am so glad I came. And don't you dare wait on me. I'm here to help.

  Jane, you run along and get linens, and I'll get this bed made up, and

  then you show me around the house and tell me what I can do!"

  ' "Dolly, you don't have to do anything but rest. It's been a long trip

  " You hush, dear. I'm going to get to know my room!" She stepped inside,

  closing the door. Jane hurried down the hall to the little'

  linen-storage room.

  Tess smiled wryly at Jon.

  "She's wonderful, isn't she?"

  "Dolly? Yes, she's a wonder."

  "I didn't really give her the best room, Jon, both these rooms are big

  and have beautiful views. I think you'll be just as happy over here. The

  bed is large and firm, and it's very airy."

  "I'll be quite comfortable wherever you put me," he sured her.

  Smiling, he looked into the room, then backed out again.

  "I'll go help Hank with the trunks."

  "If you're tired"

  "Tess, do I look tired? If yon Heusen is coming back tonight, we want to

  look settled in, don't we?"

  "It's interesting that you should feel that way. Apparently the

  lieutenant wasn't very worried."

  "Don't underestimate him, Tess. He knows what he's doing."

  "You would defend him no matter what, wouldn't you?"

  "Because I know him," Jon said quietly, and he stepped past her, down

  the hall and down the stairs. She'd best get moving herself, Tess

  decided.

  She turned and hurried down the hallway in Jon's wake. While the men

  unloaded the wagon, she could see to the horses and the mules.

  Then she'd have to find out how many of the ranch hands had stayed

  around once they'd heard that von Heusen would be taking over.

  And then she'd have to wait. for von Heusen himself.

  The town of Wiltshire was not a little hole-in the-wall, Jamie decided

  as he rode down the main street. It was really quite sophisticated, with

  rows and rows of Victorian houses with their cupolas and gingerbread

  lining the roads that ran off the main street. Along the main street

  were any number of businesses--two different mercantiles, a barbershop,

  a corset shop, a men's wear shop, a cooper, a photographer, a mortician,

  a pharmacy, a doctor, two lawyers, a boardinghouse for young ladies and

  an inn that boasted a sign, "Perry McCarthy's Shady Rest Hotel--Stop

  Here and Dine! We've a Restaurant for Any Respectable Traveler,

  Gentleman, Lady or Child."

  He wondered how well Perry McCarthy was doing. The streets were very

  quiet.

  In front of the barbershop a few men sat around and puffed on pipes.

  One was missing an arm, another was minus his left foot. A pair of

  crutches leaned against the wall behind him.

  The men looked at Jamie as he rode by. The 125 war, Jamie thought. These

  men had fought in the war.

  Southerners, like he'd been. Even if Miss. Stuart was insisting upon

  calling him a Yank. Well, he was a Yank. Hell, they were all Yanks now.

  Because the damn Yanks had won the war.

  "Howdy," he called out to the group.

  The fellow with the stump for an arm nodded.

  "Stranger in these parts, aren't you, mister."

  "Yes, sir, I am. But it seems to be a nice enough place."

  "Used to be," the man minus the foot said, spitting on the ground.

  "Used to be. But then the varmints started coming in and taking over.

  You know how that is. You don't hail from these parts, but I don't think

  that's any Chicago accent you got on you, boy. Where you from?"

  "Missouri," Jamie said.

  "Missouri," the footless man repeated. He stroked his graying beard with

  a smile and settled back.

  "Well, now, I hope you stay a while."

  "I was planning on it. I thought I'd buy some land."

  "Don't think you're going to be able to, not good land.

  Oh, there's some land up to the north for sale, but it's pure desert.

  You don't want that, boy."

  "Well, I'll look around. I heard that Joe Stuart was killed. Maybe I can

  get my hands on some of his land."

  The man without the arm was up in a minute.

  "Don't you go looking around to be a vulture after Joe's place. You'll

  wind up dead yourself, young man."

  "Maybe you'd better shut up, Carter," the other fellow muttered.

  Jamie leaned down, smiling.

  "Fellows, Joe's niece is alive and well and kicking, I can tell you."

  "Miss. Tess!" The one named Carter gasped with pleasure.

  "Why, that's the best news I've heard since '61! You telling the truth

  there, boy?"

  "Sir, I'm over thirty," Jamie politely told him.

  "And I think I count. double time for the war, my friends, so that makes

  me pretty darned old, and nobody's boy."

  "Sorry there, Carter and me, we didn't mean to offend."

  "No offense taken. My name is Jamie Slater. I'm look- hag to buy land.

  You hear of anything, you let me know."

  "We'll do that. But you aren't going to get the Smart ranch. Von Heusen

  wants that. He wants it bad."

  "But he doesn't want that other land. That's
interesting," Jamie mused.

  "Hope you stay a while," Carter said.

  "Thanks. I intend to."

  "My name's Jeremiah Miller, you need any more information, bo--young

  man, you look me up. Hell, anybody younger'n me is a boy, son!"

  Jamie laughed and urged his mount on. He could see the saloon ahead.

  He reined in before it, tossed his reins over the tethering bar and

  entered through the swinging doors. He paused for a minute, letting his

  eyes adjust to the dimness and the smoke. There was a piano player in

  the rear. A singer with a short mauve shirt that barely covered rich

  black petticoats and stockings perched on the piano. Her voice was as

  smoky as the atmosphere.

  There was a bar to his right, running the length of the establishment.

  Two heavyset bartenders ha white aprons leaned against the mahogany bar

  talking to customers. There were a number of patrons at the twenty or so

  tables in the place. Some were well-dressed small-town merchants, others

  were ranch men, wearing denim pants and spurs and tall, dusty hats.

  Their spurred boots were sometimes up on chairs or tables. It was a lazy

  crowd, it seemed, an interesting one.

  The crowd went silent the minute Jamie entered the room. The singer

  forgot the lyrics to her song. The piano player swung around and stared,

  too.

  "Howdy," Jamie said casually.

  People stared. Then the brunette hopped off the piano and walked

  forward.

  "Hello, there," she said, frowning at the others, offering Jamie a broad

  smile.

  "What's the matter with you all! We've a stranger in town. Let's not

  make him think we haven't a single wit of manners between the lot of

  us!"

  "Sure thing, Sherry, honey? one of the cowboys called out. He let his

  feet fall to the floor.

  "Howdy, there, stranger.

  Welcome to Wiltshire. We ain't rude. We're just surprised. Strangers

  just don't come here very often very more." "Why is that?" Jamie asked.

  The cowboy shrugged, but not before looking around the room. In one

  corner, a few men in suits were playing cards.

  "It ain't a good gamble, that's why," a tall, thin man with heavy

  iron-gray whiskers called out.

  "But you're here now, so come on in. Hardy!" He called to the bartender.

  "Give the stranger a whiskey, on me." "Thank you kindly," Jamie said. He

  strode into the room. Sherry brought his whiskey. He sat across from the

  man who had invited him, next to a small, nervous man with wir~rimmed

  spectacles.

  "My haree's Edward Clancy," the bewhiskered man said, offering Jamie a

  hand.

  "I'm the editor of the Wiltshire Sun."

  Jamie nearly betrayed his surprise. He kept a firm smile plastered to

  his face.

  "The Sun, huh? The newspaper?" "The gossip rag," the man said flatly.

  "That's all I dare print, and I'm careful about that. Oh, well, I write

  up some articles about President Grant and about the Indians. But not

  much else."

  "Why?"

  '"Cause I like living," Edward Clancy said flatly.

  "We're playing poker. You in?"

  Jamie pushed back his hair and reached into his pocket for money.

  "Sure, I'm in. I like to gamble."

  "Then you're in the right town, mister. You're surely in the right towm

  What's your name?"

  "Jamie. Jamie Slater."

  Clancy smiled slowly.

  "I've heard of you. You're one of the Slater brothers. Why, I heard that

  you can hit a fly in the clouds with that " Rumor," Jamie interrupted

  him.

  "Rumor, that's something I'd just as soon keep quiet for the time

  being."

  "It's quiet. It's quiet." Clancy stared at him hard, then grinned again.

  "That's Dec Martin. He was one of Joe Stuart's best friends. We'll keep

  things quiet. Whatever you say."

  "Thanks."

  "We'll help you any way that we can," Dec volunteered. "Information is

  what I need now," Jamie said, leaning closer.

  "Why does this yon Heusen want the Stuart property so damn bad?"

  "You know, we haven't figured that one out yet. We just haven't figured

  it out. But he does want it badly."

  "Badly enough to kill?"

  "Hell, yes, I think so. Why, if the Indians hadn't gotten old Joe ..."

  His voice trailed away as he stared at Jamie.

  "It wasn't a tribe of Indians that came after him, was it?"

  "Not according to Tess."

  "Tess! She's alive!"

  Jamie nodded. The look of pure, unadulterated joy on the man's face was

  somewhat irritating. The sun-honey blond seemed to be a golden angel

  around these parts. Edward Clancy leaned so far across the table that he

  was nearly on top of it. His voice was soft; his features were knotted

  up and tense.

  "If Tess says it was von Heusen, it was von Heusen all right. Are

  you--are you going to stay around and fight him?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

  He didn't guess so. He was committed, and he knew it. He had been

  committed since he'd first seen Tess's face.

  He just hadn't known it right away.

  "Hell! Don't look now," Dec muttered suddenly. "What?" Jamie demanded.

  "Some of von Heusen's boys. The four fellows who just came in. The

  mean-looking ones."

  They were a mean-looking group, Jamie decided. Lanky- haired,

  glitter-eyed.

  Two were light, two were dark-haired.

  One chewed tobacco incessantly.

  The dark-haired man who chewed tobacco seemed to be the spokesman for

  the group. He slammed his fist on the bar, rattling all the glasses on

  it. He shouted to the bartender, who couldn't seem to move swiftly

  enough to the end of the bar.

  "Hardy! What's the matter with you, ya getting' old?" one of the men

  demanded.

  "Whiskey. And not the rotgut you serve the local swine. Give us the best

  in the house." Hardy set a bottle on the bar. The man grasped him by the

  shirt collar and nearly pulled him over the bar. Hardy was starting to

  turn purple, and his attacker was laughing like a hyena.

  "That's enough."

  Jamie was on his feet. Once again, everyone went silent. Von Heusen's

  men were silent, too. The four of them stared at him with astonishment.

  Then they began to smile. "Who the hell are you?" asked the dark-haired

  brute.

  "That doesn't matter. Let Hardy alone."

  "Why, son, you don't know anything about this town at all, now, do you?"

  "Let him go," Jamie repeated.

  "He needs to be taught a lesson," one of the light-haired men said with

  a nasty snarl.

  "Yeah. A fatal lesson."

  In a flash, the man released the bartender. He drew his gun.

  He was fast, but not fast enough. Before he could aim he had dropped the

  gun, howling in pain. His friends tried to draw.

  Rapid shots sizzled from Jamie's Colts. The second man was on the floor,

  clutching his leg. The third grasped an arm. The fourth was on the

  floor.

  He might have been dead. Jamie didn't know or care.

  He looked at Edward Clancy.

  "Thanks for the drink, friend," he said quietly.

  Then he left the bar, wal
king over his fallen enemies.

  Chapter Seven.

  By nightfall the wagon had been unloaded except for the printing press,

  which would be taken into town in the morning. Tess had even managed to

  fill the hip bath in the kitchen with steaming water and soak for a long

  time, washing away the dust and dirt from the trail. She kept reminding

  herself that von Heusen was coming back, but she felt strangely calm,

  despite the fact that Jamie had deserted them.

  Von Heusen wasn't going to come right up to the house and murder her. He

  hadn't the guts for that. She dressed in a soft summer-green cotton and

  set about making dinner with Jane and Dolly to help her. She was

  accustomed to Jane, but it was really nice to have Dolly with her. Dolly

  kept up a steady stream of conversation, mostly about her husband, Will,

  and their days in the military. Her stories were spicy and fun, and Tess

  enjoyed them thoroughly.

  They cooked a huge wild turkey on a spit and summer squash and green

  beans and apple turnovers. When the table was set and everything was

  ready, Tess went out to find Jon.

  He was leaning against a pillar, a band tied around his dark hair and

  forehead, a repeating carbine held casually in his hand. He looked over

  the landscape. "Dinner's on, Jon."

  He glanced her way, smiling.

  "Thanks, Tess, but I think I'll wait out here a while longer, keep an

  eye on things."

  "It's turkey and all kinds of good things. I'd like to repay you for the

  trip."

  I'll eat soon," he promised. She nodded and left him. Halfway inside the

  house she paused, wondering if he was looking for yon Heusen or Jamie.

  She hoped Jamie was eating stale, weevil-fiddled bread somewhere.

  She'had a feeling, though, that he was not.

  She walked into the house and to the dining-room table. Hank had come

  in, and he was smiling.

  "The boys are out at the bunkhouse and they're pleased as peaches that

  you're home, Miss. Tess. Well, them that's left. We've still got Roddy

  Morris, Sandy Harrison and Bill McDowell. They won't be going anywhere."

  "Wonderful!" Tess told him.

  "Bring the boys in for dinner, will you, Hank?"

  "They're already fixing. their suppers in the bunkhouse, Tess. We'll

  have a big Sunday dinner for them all, that's what we'll do."

  "Fine. That sounds good, Hank. Now, let's all sit." Dolly offered to say

  grace. She thanked God for His bounty, for their being alive and being