The Man who liked Women part 3
They pulled up in the street where they were to stop for the night.
“Dang me, it surely goes against the grain to let that dame absquatulate with all my bottom dollar, I’m plum cleaned out,” muttered Dance.
“Don’t look at me,” said Burd. “It was your idea to take on the dame. You could hardly try for the reverend, and the sodbuster had your measure.”
“Well, I’m going to mark where she’s put for the night, and get it back,” said Dance.
“You’re a fool, Chuck,” said the drummer.
“Well, excuse me,” said Dance. “She seemed so nice and innocent, despite having been warned against bad men.”
“Maybe she’s just lucky; she was too clumsy putting the ace in her sleeve to be a sharpess,” said Burd.
“You may be right,” mused Dance. “Besides, there ain’t a dame in the world who understands cards that well; they can’t count well enough.”
Luke’s hearing was acute, and he thought this a very revealing conversation; but he gave no sign that he had heard a thing. He did chuckle over the likely outrage his sisters might show, though.
Luke went up to his room, where he shaved and made up again. The problem with dark hair was the need to shave at least twice a day. Then he tripped downstairs, with impeccable makeup looking winsome and sweet, and twirling a parasol.
The parasol box also contained his Winchester.
There were more people than the stage coach passengers eating in the hotel restaurant; it looked a popular venue.
One of them was faintly familiar.
Luke mentally removed the heavy beard and moustache and recognised Dan ‘Fillies’ Mikkeljon in the florid, dark good looks of the owlhoot. He had a straight nose, plainly never broken in brawling, winged eyebrows, and brown eyes, high cheekbones and regular features.
His eyes were also about as warm as the grounds of coffee left outside overnight in winter.
Luke was glad he was not just a helpless widow lady with a fellow like that around. He fluttered in pretty hesitation, and Fillies got up and came over.
“Can I help you find a place to eat, ma’am?” he said.
“Well, if you would... thank you, kindly,” said Luke. “I feel so far from home, it’s nice to know that not all of you strangers are just staring at me.”
“It’s on account of your beauty, ma’am,” said Fillies, gallantly.
Luke managed not to sneer.
He made a handsome woman; even pretty, when he smiled. But he was not beautiful. His neck, though concealed, was too thick, his jaw too positive. But he simpered, nevertheless.
“Oh, fie, sir!” he said.
“I disremember when I saw a handsomer woman,” said Fillies, kissing Luke’s gloved hand.
Luke’s skin crawled.
He managed a girlish giggle and allowed himself to be led to the table Fillies had occupied, keeping all comers away by the expedient of scowling at everyone else.
“I can’t believe a lovely lady like yourself is travelling without an escort,” said Fillies.
“My escort died,” said Luke, huskily. “I am a widow, as you might tell by my clothes.”
“I’ve a mind to offer my services as an escort.”
“Why, how kind; it is something to consider,” said Luke, simpering. “Is my ticket good if I rest an extra day, here? I feel as if I have been shaken to pieces.”
“Why, I’m sure it is,” said Fillies. “It will give us a chance to get to know each other.”
“I am sure that would be delightful,” murmured Luke, glancing down at his hands demurely. He wondered what sort of women fell for this fatuous, inane, glutinous twaddle.
He confided in Fillies that he was travelling to accept the legacy of the fictional Thomas Brandon.
“My poor husband could have had a better doctor if only we had known Tom had died and left money,” sighed Luke, dabbing his eyes. “But it was just like Tom to be awkward about everything. I’m not much looking forward to seeing his folks.”
“Not much love lost?” Fillies was all sympathy. A widow woman at outs with her in-laws would fall ripe into his lap. He might even marry her to make his claim legal before she had a nasty accident.
“Oh! My poor dear husband was named ‘Seth’ which means ‘a substitute’ because his parents wanted a girl. They kept him in dresses until he was five years old, can you imagine? Sometimes he used to like to wear my... intimate garments. But he wasn’t really strange, just a little... confused... at times.”
“You poor woman,” said Fillies, and almost meant it.
Luke got a grip on himself. He should not see how much he could make the man swallow. It was almost irresistible, but he had a job to do.
Still, the thought of ‘her’ intimate garments had given Fillies a visible thrill, so that was good; if he was thinking with the brain that hung between his legs, not the one in his head, it would be much easier.
“Do... do you think I can ask you to arrange with them for me to travel on a later coach? I have a headache, and I should like to go to bed,” said Luke, drawing his veil down. He suspected that the wayward stubble was making its way forward again.
“Of course, of course,” said Fillies. “Let me see you to your room, little lady, and be sure you are safely there.”
“Too kind,” murmured Luke.
He let Fillies kiss his hand again at the door of the single room Luke had insisted on. And he shut the door firmly. He had preparations to make against the anticipated incursion of Chuck Dance.
Luke suspected that the doors all opened with one key; cheap rooming houses often did, as did many private houses.
He collected wax from the side of the candle to jam in the lock after locking it – it would bore out easily enough in the morning – to deter both peeping toms, and the insertion of a key. He put one of the rickety chairs from the room under the handle as well, to help hold it firmly. The window opened onto a balcony, which was an invitation to thieves, and Luke, who did not travel without means of warning, hammered a tack into each side of the window frame with the butt of one gun. To one, he tied a black thread; he hung the end over the other tack, tied to a small bell. He usually used the bells to deter horse thieves, but personal security worked as well.
If anyone came in the window, they would disturb the thread, and the bell would fall to the floor, with a clatter. He placed a cushion under the bell, to muffle it. It would not be loud, but it would be loud enough.
The bolster made a convincing sleeping figure, with the veil over the top, which in the dark looked enough like dark hair spread over the pillow. He put the corset back on after washing, and a nightgown over the top. Luke took the second pillow and a blanket, and rolled up on the plaited floor rug, hidden from the window behind the bed. Then he went to sleep, cat like.
The muffled tinkle roused Luke, and he was immediately fully awake. He eased himself out of the blanket, which he pushed under the bed.
Chuck Dance had not bothered to assault a sleeping, exhausted woman; he was rummaging in Luke’s overnight valise to regain his money. Luke slid quietly onto the bed, and screamed, loudly.
“Help! Rape! Robbery!” he warbled in a falsetto which sounded terrified as he hid laughter at the startled jump from the intruder. Dance hurried over to the bed, to try to silence the ‘widow’ who proved unexpectedly strong as he grappled ‘her.’ Luke used his hat-pin without compunction to mark the card-sharp’s handsome features and the top of his head to knock the intruder on the chin, which made him giddy enough for Luke to finish the job with an uppercut. All the time, he was wailing like a banshee.
He remembered to pull on the veil, and went to uncouple the chair from the door as the handle was rattling. The hat pin took care of the wax as well, and he unlocked the door, to see a collection of people outside.
“That man! Have him taken in charge!” cried Luke. “Oh, I feel faint!” he tottered over to the bed and fell artistically on it.
Dance was heaved up unceremoniously by a couple of brawny cow pokes. The little drummer had poked his head in, and had vanished back to his own room discreetly.
“Has he hurt you, ma’am?” asked the proprietor, euphemistically.
“Oh! I am bruised but intact,” sobbed Luke. “He... I woke, and he was in my room! And when I shrieked, he jumped on me! He placed hands on me intimately! I... I grabbed a hat pin from the stand, and... and I threw my head back to hit him. Oh! Take him away!”
“Now, then, ma’am, you’ll be just fine,” said the proprietor’s wife, bustling in. “I’ll make you a nice cup of tea, nice and milky, and you’ll do just dandy.”
“Strong, please, and not too much milk,” murmured Luke, who hated weak, milky tea.
“If you’re sure...”
“I surely would appreciate it,” said Luke.
By the time the good woman returned, the bell and thread had vanished, the bed was in its proper order, and Luke’s overnight valise was returned to its proper state, with no shaving kit visible. Luke sat in bed, swathed in shawls, and ready to be pacified with tea.
“The sheriff’s locked that fellow up,” said the proprietor’s wife.
“Oh! I am so relieved,” said Luke.
With such a night’s alarum, and the need to sign a deposition for the sheriff, there was no question of ‘Mrs. Brandon’ going on with the stage, and Luke, freshly shaved, beautifully made up, and well-rested, breakfasted well on porridge, and a full fry up. He gave his deposition to the sheriff, having been escorted by the assiduous Fillies, here living under the name of ‘Smith,’ and returned to the hotel.
“Well, Mrs. Brandon, can I do anything to help you today?” asked Fillies, solicitously.
“I surely would admire to ride out and blow away the cobwebs,” said Luke. “Can you hire me a horse? I... I can find you the money for it....”
Fillies was unaware of Luke’s unexpected monetary windfall from the gambler; the reverend would not mention such things, the taciturn farmer declined to gossip with anyone, and both the sharp and his confederate did not brag of losses.
“Allow me to make the hire of a horse a gift,” said Fillies, with heavy gallantry.
“Oh, how kind!” Luke clapped his hands with girlish glee, something he had seen his sisters do.
Fillies had procured a sorrel mare for Luke, who strapped his parasol case to the saddle.
“In case we should stop for a picnic,” he said.
“Oh, I think that would be in order,” said Fillies.
Riding side-saddle for a short way was no real hardship; Luke was used to hitch up one leg at a time, sitting back in the saddle, to rest on long journeys, as well as to perform Cossack riding tricks. The extra pommels could be accommodated in such tricks.
Fillies permitted his ‘fair companion’ to set the place and distance of the ride.
They were deep in the forest when it bore upon him that they had come coincidentally a long way towards his stash.
Fillies was a cautious man, and had he been with a man, he might have felt nervous. But as well as liking women, in terms of liking a commodity, he also despised them; and dismissed any slight qualms he might have felt.
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