5
Adam found himself a corner in the Rubyville Saloon and stayed there. He made each beer last for an hour, not interested in getting drunk, but trying to make it look like he was still drinking. The men in the saloon paid him little mind. They wanted to talk to the ladies, play away their wages and drink. It was too cold outside to risk being booted out of the saloon for rough housing so most of the men behaved themselves.
There was a brief spat of entertainment. A young man came out with a guitar and sat picking at it idly. A quick glance confirmed that the saloon didn't have a piano. The soldiers ignored the musician until he began to play marching tunes that they recognized. They sang along with rowdy abandon and paid the musician well as he ended the single set.
The playing was adequate, but the man's real talent was in knowing his audience. He played soft, classical pieces while the soldiers drank and talked, and got their attention just before the bar closed with pieces that would raise their spirits, earn him and the ladies big tips, and cue the soldiers to head back out to where they would sleep for the night.
The thing that drew Adam's interest was the guitar. It was blue. He didn't know if the wood itself had been painted, or if it was a tinted veneer, but the color was something he'd been looking for all night. When the musician came back out from behind the curtain with an apron around his waist and started bussing tables, Adam left a dollar piece by his glass and headed out onto the boardwalk. In the dark he circled the saloon, found the rear entrance and quietly let himself in to a narrow hallway. The door to what might have been the kitchen was to his left, the door to the right led into a single room at the back. Adam thought it was originally built as extra storage for ale or food, but it had been renovated into a one room apartment.
Adam lit a lantern just inside the room and kept the wick down until he had pulled the curtains closed over the small window. The musician's guitar was there along with a small closet of clothes, a single bed, a pot belly stove, a table and chair and a chest. Adam bent to the chest and opened it. Inside he found a shaving kit that looked barely used, a few books of music and a white linen suit, neatly folded and protected by wax paper. A pair of dress shoes sat under it. When Adam set the wax paper bundle back down, the bottom of the chest moved up. Adam pushed his finger tips into the corner, felt the bottom give a little, then lifted the thin piece of wood out of the chest along with everything stacked on top of it.
Underneath he found something he couldn't explain. There was a corset, bloomers, and a chemise. Two skirts were folded under that and blouses. He found stockings and ladies boots and when he compared the size of the boots to the men's dress shoes, the length from heels to toes was the same. He checked for a second false bottom, but found none. Once he had replaced everything in the chest, Adam looked around the room a second time looking for hidden compartments. He was preparing to lift the mattress and check underneath it when the door opened behind him.
Adam turned and saw the musician staring at him and the state of the room. Then the guitar player took off at a dead run out the back of the saloon. Adam followed, pounding down the short flight of stairs, then chasing the smaller man west, away from the direction of the fort. He thought about pulling his gun and firing into the air to get the man to stop, but didn't. He would have expected the musician to tackle him, try to throw a punch, or even call for help from the tender. But just running at the sight of someone ransacking his room, that was a peculiar reaction.
The musician was fast. He ate up the ground from the back of the saloon to the end of the last building on the street before vaulting around the corner. Adam poured on the speed and rounded the same corner in time to see the musician already across the street and tearing up the outer stairs of the mercantile across the way. Adam hung back in the shadows.
If the apartment was where the musician lived, where in hell was he going now?
His question was answered when a pair of soldiers came out onto the top landing buttoning trousers and pulling on gun belts. The musician pointed toward the Rubyville Saloon and Adam waited until they had crossed the street and were out of sight before he eased around and into the open. He checked the boardwalk, then trotted lightly across the wide thoroughfare. He'd nearly made it to the alley between the mercantile and the post office, when a shout went up and shots chased after his feet.
Adam charged down the alley, went up behind the post office and started across that alley to the back of the livery stable. There was another shout, and shots that followed. The back door to the livery was barred from the inside and there was no way Adam could get up to the loft door. He continued up the street, running faster when he heard footsteps coming down between the buildings.
He had turned the corner of the pony express office and was slipping into the corral when a half-dressed soldier appeared on the other side of the three-slat fence. Adam waded into the small sea of horses, his presence and the gunshots and shouts, churning them into a frenzy. He tried to push his way to the small window in the back of the express office and the door that led out into the corral, while keeping a horse in front and in back of him at all times, but the animals weren't interested in providing cover. The soldiers knew better than to shoot into the mounts, but they wouldn't remain patient forever. A glance over his shoulder told Adam that one of them was starting to push his way into the corral. The soldiers were talking to each other, working as a team to herd him out into the open.
Adam didn't know what the musician had told them. He hardly thought ransacking a room was worthy of this much force. The horses were pushing him away from the building and toward the far end of the corral. Beyond the corral was wide open country, dotted with trees and a few ditches here and there, but not the kind of cover that could protect his hide. Adam was against pulling his gun and shooting back. The army didn't take much convincing to charge a man, lock him up and throw away the key.
One of the men had shouted for the soldier who had climbed into the corral to open the gate and let the animals out. Only one of the horses still had a bridle on and Adam latched on to that one, fighting to stay close to the jittery creature. When the gate was opened and the soldiers started shooting into the air, Adam slung his arm over the horse's neck, grabbed the bridle with both hands, picked up his feet and held on, trying to keep his head ducked down against the animal's shoulder. Once the horse cleared the corral he thrust his boots down to the ground, used the forward momentum of the horse and a hard kick to get up on the animal's back, and took off at a hard gallop.
The soldiers only caught on to the move after Adam was two building lengths away. At the sound of the first shot Adam pulled the animal's head up and turned it into the narrow alley. He trotted the horse down and toward the street then cut across the open ground and into the next alley. To his right was The Rubyville Saloon, and to his left a store selling tack and other gear. Adam went behind the saloon, back where this fun little chase had begun. He slipped off the horse's back, turned its head to the west and slapped its rump hard enough to make his palm sting. The horse took off and Adam ducked back into the saloon pulling his gun.
The light was still on in the little apartment, the door closed. Adam knocked the barrel of his gun against the door, and heard a female voice call, "Who's there?"
"We got him." Adam growled, his voice low.
He heard the lock disengage and the door open. Adam shoved his way inside, shutting the door behind him. He kept his butt against the door, his eyes going to the window to make sure the curtains were drawn. He turned long enough to lock the door behind him, only to take something hard and glass to the back of his head.
His hat was in the way and protected him somewhat but the blow made him see white for a minute, and he clung desperately to the doorknob to keep his feet under him. He heard a soft grunt and bare feet moving across the floor and managed to turn in time to catch a slender wrist trying to bring a second bottle down on his skull.
He twisted the wrist a little, caught the bottle before it could drop, then pushed the musician, and woman, away from him, leaning his shoulders against the door. The room continued to swim around him, and he watched the blurry figure in white hunting for something else to throw at him or hit him with. He saw her hand reach for the guitar for just a moment before she decided against it and jumped onto the bed.
He realized almost too late that she was trying to open the window, and crossed the small room quickly, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her off the bed, kicking and screeching. She wriggled and kicked, aiming her heels at his legs and her elbows at his head. He let her drop just a little, getting his arms around her torso, only to have her head come back and crash against his nose and mouth.
The blow did damage to both of them. The girl's fight went out of her and he heard a pained "Ow". He let her go, retreating to the door. He could already feel his upper lip swelling and the pain in his nose was making his eyes water. Once she was free the girl's hands flew up to the back of her head and she turned on him, glaring angrily.
"Sit down." Adam barked, pointing at the bed. He saw tears start down cheeks that were flaring red hot. The girl sat, then flopped onto her side, curling her legs up under her and hiding her face behind her forearms, sobbing softly.
Adam looked at his feet and saw the remains of a whiskey bottle. The bottle in his hand had once held wine, but the cork was loose and something else sloshed around inside. He thunked it down on the small table, grabbed the cloth she used to dry her hands with and put it to the back of his head. He wasn't bleeding, but he'd have a headache for days.
Adam stepped carefully to the bed, intending to check on the injury he had caused, but the minute he got close enough her bare feet flashed out, kicking hard at his knees and other areas. Adam backed away, tossed the cloth at her and retreated once more to the security of the door. As far as he could tell her screams hadn't brought anyone running, yet. Her room wasn't the safest place to stay for very long and given his original purpose for having come into the room the first time, he didn't think he'd get anywhere.
Still, he checked the hallway quickly before shutting and locking the door again.
"I don't got any money." The girl said, still curled up in the same position. "And if you touch me I swear I'll kill you. You best just git while you can, mister."
Adam started feeling gingerly around his nose and lip, and said, "All I want is answers."
"I ain't got none. Them soldiers are gonna bust in here and shoot you dead."
"For what?" Adam demanded. "Rifling though a couple of drawers doesn't earn a man the death penalty, lady."
"I ain't no lady!" She screeched at him, sitting up in the bed.
"So, that petticoat and bloomers and ladies boots, those belong to your sister? Lady cousin maybe, who just happens to have the same size shoe as you?"
The girl glared at him, eyes still wet with angry tears, then reached for the chest, yanking it open and grabbing for the first thing that she could throw. Adam lifted his gun. He pointed it towards the floor under the bed, but the appearance of the weapon alone did the trick and the girl settled back on the mattress with a thump.
"How'd you know?" She asked, her eyes directed at anything but Adam.
"I didn't. Not until I came in here and went through that chest. I certainly wasn't looking for it."
That got her attention and she met his gaze.
"What are you lookin' for mister?" She asked, her voice still hard.
"Answers. Like I said before." Adam said, grunting softly. The pain came and went in waves that were unkind to every part of his skull.
"You want me to help you with a test or somethin'?" The girl snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Look, I'm trying to track down a man."
"What's he look like?"
"I don't know. I talked to the doc up at the fort. He said that a sergeant named Mooney used to hang out at the saloons."
The girl recognized the name, and the sound of it eased her shoulders for a second before her defensiveness changed directions. "I knew Mooney. What about him?"
"Did he ever bring a white woman to the saloon with him?"
The girl gave him a look like she thought he was stupid.
Adam rolled his eyes. "She wore hides like a native woman, blonde hair, blue eyes. She would have been about my age."
"Jane." The girl said.
"So you met her?"
The girl's eyes darted to the bottle that Adam had put on the table. "She liked my music. She said it was peaceful."
Adam had started exploring the lump on the back of his head again. The skin under his hair felt tight and hot and the headache was growing. "I liked it too...for the record." He said around a wince.
"What do you want with Jane?"
Adam thought about how to answer that question, then answered it with another question.
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"April." The girl said, without hesitating.
"You seem pretty sure of that."
"It was right after my birthday." She said with a shrug. "Jane was…" The girl pressed her lips together. "She decided to go, so she went. But she brought me a present first."
"Present?" Adam asked.
The girl curled her nose up again then said, "I was gonna smash it over your head."
Adam looked to the bottle he'd put on the table. "Wine?"
The girl pursed her lips then quietly said, "Poison."
"What was she doing with poison!? What do you want with poison?"
"Protection." The girl said, pointedly.
Adam pointed at the shards of glass at his feet. "That wasn't protection enough?"
"You're still standin' ain't ya? You got your answers, now git."
"Jane is dead." Adam snapped. "And her name wasn't Jane."
"You kill her?"
"No. She died because she was all alone in the middle of nowhere in the mountains. She had a baby to protect, and no one to protect her. I'm trying to find out why she was up there alone. Who the father of the baby was, and why he abandoned her."
The girl's eyes narrowed and she studied him for a bit. "What'd'ya...love her or somethin'?"
Adam straightened a bit and stepped away from the door. He put his gun away and said, "Or something."
"You don't know what you're asking, Mister." She said after a minute. "I tell you anything...anything at all." The girl swallowed and Adam saw the tears starting again.
"Just...give me a name. No one has to know it came from you. Tell me...tell me where Mooney went."
"Mooney's dead." She said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And the only name I can give you...is Suzie Willow."
"Who is Suzie Willow?"
"She's dead, too. She's dead because she tried to stop it from happening."
"Stop-" Fists pounded on the door.
"Bobby, you ok?!"
The girl looked at the door, then to him, then back to the door. The fist pounded again. "Bobby, who you talkin' to in there?"
"You got that sidewinder in there you just holler, we'll take care of him good."
The girl's eyes met his. Her face went from surprise to guilt in seconds and Adam jumped toward the bed, his fingers scrabbling at the latch on the window as the girl screamed for help. She left the bed like a shot and had the door open as the tiny window pane swung freely on its hinges. Adam had his head and shoulders out the window before hands went around his boots and he was dragged back into the room.
He landed a few punches before his hands were pulled back behind him, his elbows nearly touching at the force the man holding him used. He tried kicking out with his feet, or using his head to headbutt the man behind him. One of the blows landed and he was free for a second.
He barreled into the biggest of the three men, standing in the doorway. They both went backwards into the hallway and against the wall, and Adam nearly had an opening to lay the man out with a solid right to the jaw. A sharp fist pounded into his back, and he was pulled off the big man. Two of the three soldiers held his arms and there in the hallway, the third laid into him.
The beating was peppered with jeers and warnings. Adam learned several things. He learned that this was an army town and no good saddle tramps weren't welcome.
He learned that "Bobby" was an old buddy of theirs, and they wouldn't hold with "his" room being torn apart by lousy, no account thieves.
When a punch to the body knocked the beaded belt from Adam's coat, he learned that he was apparently an indian lover, too, and indian lovers weren't liked around these parts either.
When, through a bloodied lip, Adam thanked the man for his helpful instruction, he learned that wiseacres weren't wanted either.
The lesson ended when Adam didn't have the breath left to respond. He was dragged to the back door and tossed down the three or four stairs to the dirt where he sprawled gratefully.
He heard the big man ask Bobby if "he" was ok, before the three left the saloon. They each crowded around where Adam lay, and talked about what they thought they should do with him. They went through his coat and pants pocket, relieving him of his gun and money. The trinkets they left behind. Each delivered a final kick to his chest or back before he passed out.