Chapter 11 – Ten Percent

"I told you to make friends with her, not fall in love with her."

Frank Carson sat still and said nothing. It was about time he got something he wanted, and he intended it to be Sammi Jo Withers. That's what prompted him to take his most recent action, and he wasn't going to back down now.

"Do you know how much money we'll lose if you keep her? She's worth four or five times the regular fee. Women that look like her don't come along every day."

"I don't care. Send somebody else." His tone was defiant, hostile. He wanted the beautiful redhead for his own; he had no intention of shipping her off to San Francisco like so much meat. He didn't care one bit about all the girls they'd already sent halfway across the country, never to be heard from again. They were sold into 'brothel slavery' – to be used in the finest of whorehouses until they were old and tired looking, then turned out to make their way in the world alone. Those that wouldn't cooperate were addicted to drugs or alcohol or, in extreme cases, murdered. Carson had seen dozens of beautiful women vanish from Kansas City, and he and his partners had been well compensated for each girl that they provided. But he'd made up his mind – he wanted Sammi Jo for himself, and he intended to have her.

"Then we have to send them someone equally as alluring."

"Send them Mae."

A short burst of laughter. "How do you propose we do that?"

"Springer can't hold her in that jail cell. He'll have to house her somewhere, and it'll probably be back at Lil's. Once she's back there, we can ship her to Frisco. Everyone'll think she ran away to escape trial. Problem solved."

"Hmmm. That just might work. Let me think about it for a minute." One minute stretched into five, then ten before an answer came. "Alright, if Springer sends Mae back to Lil's for safe keeping, we can make it work. You get to keep your girl, and we still get a big payday. If not . . . "

"He will. Don't worry. And if he doesn't, I'll break her out myself. The redhead's mine."

Carson got up and walked away. 'That one's gettin' to be a problem' was the thought that followed him out the door. 'Maybe he's the partner that should have been eliminated. I've traded one problem for another.'

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By the time Ginny got back to Lil's it was almost noon. She noticed the look of relief that passed across Frank's face when he saw her, and she went straight over to the bar to allay his fears.

"Where were you? Bea said you had somethin' to do but she didn't know what it was. I was worried about you."

Ginny slid her hand across the bar and grasped Frank's hand in her own. She had to remind herself to stay focused on her goal and not how different the bartender's hand was from Bret's. "I had an appointment with a dressmaker. I been waitin' weeks to see this lady cause she's supposed to be the best in Kansas City and I wasn't about to miss it. Wait till you see the new dresses. They're beautiful!"

Frank grasped her hand tightly in his. "Thank God that's all it was. I kept imagining all sorts of things . . . especially after the shock about Mae. Red went down to the jail with Dyson and they're tryin' to get her released in Red's custody. That jail ain't no place to keep a woman. Especially one that looks like Mae."

"I agree with you there. Listen, I need to go take a nap or I'm never gonna make it tonight. Can we have dinner together, say around five?"

A big smile spread across the bartender's face. "I'd like that a lot. You like Mexican food? We can go to Mama Rosita's on the other side of town. Great food and plentiful tequila. How does that sound?"

Ginny's smile matched Frank's. "Sounds great. It'll be good to spend some time with you . . . and just you. I'll be down later." She withdrew her hand from his and ran up the stairs. Hurrying down the hall, she slipped into Mae's room. She'd seen something there earlier and wanted to make sure it was still where it belonged.

Ginny tiptoed in quietly and went back to the third drawer in the little dresser. Buried amongst all the ladies undergarments was a small blue box, and inside the box was one of the biggest diamond rings Ginny had ever seen. Frank was wrong about Grant Milton. If he wanted to be governor so badly then he wouldn't have given Mae what was surely an engagement ring. Ginny wondered what else Frank was wrong about.

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Arthur Stansbury didn't like the word he'd gotten back from the New Mexico office. Bret Maverick was in jail in a town called Hobbs and was about to stand trial for murder. There was some hope; evidently his brother Bart was also in Hobbs. If anybody could get Bret out of trouble it would be Bart.

That didn't solve Arthur's problem, however. He couldn't withhold the truth from Ginny; she'd never forgive him if he did. And how did he give her that kind of news? What could he tell her about her black dress? This would require some thought. A lot of thought.

It was late in the day before Arthur decided on a course of action. He worded the telegram to Ginny carefully and prayed that she would be satisfied with the sketchy answer he gave her. 'Sammi Jo – Sent some things to my sister in New Mexico and your dress was among them. She'll forward it to you as soon as possible. Mariel.'

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Carson was right about the food at Mama Rosita's – it was excellent. Ginny even indulged in a shot of tequila with the bartender, and at least one of them was enjoying themselves. Every time the Pinkerton agent looked at Frank all she could see was Bret, and she hoped the liquor would help her clear her head.

He'd talked about nothing but the horse ranch he hoped to have, and the family he wanted to raise, until Ginny had heard enough to make her sick. It became crystal clear that Frank Carson wanted Sammi Jo Withers to help him in both endeavors, and she had to find a way to steer him onto another topic. Finally she brought up Mae. "Do you think the marshal will turn Mae over to Red?"

Frank nodded. "Sure sounded that way before you came downstairs tonight. I hope that don't cause any problems with the other girls."

"Why would it?" Ginny asked.

"Might not want a murderer in their midst."

"Frank! I'm surprised at you. Do you really believe that Mae shot Grant?"

Carson heard the sound of distress in Ginny's voice and did some hasty back-peddling. "No, I guess not. But some of the ladies might. Could be uncomfortable for everyone."

A shake of the beautiful red head. "Too bad. Mae didn't shoot him. Somebody else must have."

"Then why was she holdin' the gun that killed him?"

"I don't know. Why do we do anything? Probably picked it up before she stopped to think. Who else might have wanted Grant dead?"

"You mean besides Mae or Red?"

"Red? Why would Red want Grant out of the way?"

"Silent partner, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Ginny did her best to sound confused. "How much of Diamond Lil's did Grant actually own?"

"Red told me once. Almost fifty percent. I own five percent. Red got tight for cash four or five years ago and sold it to me. Better that I have it than Grant, he said."

So Frank owned five percent of Diamond Lil's? That was something Ginny didn't know before. "What happens to Grant's share now?"

"If nothin's changed, I get another five percent and Red takes over the rest."

If Frank was involved in the girl-smuggling ring AND he owned ten percent of the saloon, he could more than afford that horse ranch he kept talking about. Ginny gave an involuntary shudder.

"Are you alright?"

"I am. Just a little cold. Can we head back to Lil's now? I want to see if Mae's there."

"You've gotten awfully worried about her, haven't you?" There was curiosity in Frank's voice, and something else. Uneasiness. Not about Mae, but about Sammi Jo's concern for the accused.

Ginny caught the emotion and tried to allay it. "I just . . . I just feel sorry for her, that's all. Besides, it's gettin' close to seven o'clock."

Several minutes later they were walking down the boardwalk, back towards the saloon. Frank had put his arm around Ginny, ostensibly to keep her warm, and she'd grimaced but allowed it. She had to play along if she was ever going to get anywhere. Carson seemed happy, and that's what Ginny wanted. Relaxed and comfortable, she was hoping that he'd let something slip that she could use. She also knew there was a kiss coming when they reached Lil's, and she steeled herself to endure it. There was nothing wrong with Frank's kisses, other than the most important thing. They weren't Bret's.

They stopped outside the batwing doors of the saloon and she turned to face the bartender. "Thanks for dinner. I really like spending time with you away from Lil's. I can't wait for Sunday's ride."

Frank bent his head, but before his lips could reach hers, Ginny heard a voice calling, "Sammi Jo! Sammi Jo!" It was Suzanne, and she came running outside with something in her hands. "Sorry, but this just came for you. I thought it might be something important."

Suzanne handed her a telegram and Ginny took it eagerly. It was the wire from Arthur. She read it through once, twice, and almost snorted in disgust. All it told her was that Bret was in New Mexico; what it didn't say was what bothered her. If there was nothing wrong, Arthur would have found a way to tell her. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach and she pulled back from Frank's embrace. "No, it's not, but thanks, Suzanne. Just tryin' to find a favorite dress I left in Denver."

She smiled at Frank and hooked arms with Suzanne. "Let's go give some cowboys a good time." They walked into Lil's and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. She'd barely escaped kissing Frank, and now she had to worry about Bret. Before she could give that any more thought, Beatrice caught her eye. She was standing at the bottom of the staircase.

"Red wanted to see you as soon as you got back. Mae's upstairs in her room. The marshal released her in Red's custody. He's up there with her now."