The Omaha Palace Page 2

  Lastly, she worked on her black hair, piling it up on her head, leaving her neck bare. Clint had always said he liked her neck, and she still felt that it was smooth and graceful.

  Finally she stood in front of her freestanding full-length mirror, the one she had purchased back East and had shipped to Omaha. She turned left and right, hands on her waist, which was still rather trim. While she no longer had the body of a twenty-five-year-old girl, she hadn’t been getting many complaints lately.

  With butterflies in her stomach, she opened the door to her room and stepped out.

  FOUR

  “Here she comes,” Ed Wright said.

  Clint looked at the stairs but didn’t see anybody.

  “How do you know?”

  Wright laughed.

  “Oh, I can always hear her door close,” Wright said. “And I can hear her footsteps.”

  Clint strained, but couldn’t hear a thing.

  “You must have very good hearing.”

  “It’s just from habit,” Wright said. “Ya gotta know when the boss is comin’, ya know?”

  “How long have you worked here?”

  “Been here since she opened a few weeks ago.”

  “Did you know her before that?”

  “Nope,” he said. “She hired me when I came in to apply for the job as bartender.”

  “Are you more than a bartender?”

  Wright smiled and said, “She kinda made me the manager, too. I got experience. Ah, there she is.”

  Clint looked up and saw a woman descending from the second floor. She took the stairs slowly, as if she was in no hurry. She was wearing a blue gown, low cut to reveal her shoulders and breasts, her lustrous black hair piled high on her head, revealing a long, beautiful neck.

  When she got to the floor, she glided across the room and a smile spread across her lovely face.

  “Clint,” she said. “You came.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  He took her in his arms, hugged her tightly. She was not the slender girl he had known ten years ago, but there was nothing wrong with the solid body he had in his arms.

  She kissed him quickly, then asked, “Has Ed been looking after you?”

  “He gave me some fine coffee.”

  “Is that all you want?” she asked. “We can give you something go eat, or something else to drink—”

  “I’m fine, Ashley,” he said, the name sounding odd to him. It wasn’t the name he’d known her by.

  “Well then,” she said, “why don’t we go to my office so we can talk?”

  “All right.”

  She picked up a mug of coffee Ed Wright had poured for her and said, “Grab your coffee.”

  Clint did so, and followed her to the back of the room and into her office.

  * * *

  Once in the small but well-appointed room, she put her coffee down, took his from him and set it next to hers, then went into his arms again for a longer kiss.

  “Oh, it’s been a very long time,” she said.

  “Yes, it has,” he said. “You are absolutely gorgeous, Ka—Ashley.” He’d almost called her Kate, the name he’d known her by.

  “Am I?” she asked. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think after ten years.”

  “The years have not only been kind to you,” he said, “they’ve been extremely kind. You were a pretty girl, but you are now a beautiful woman.”

  “That’s such a relief,” she said, “even if you’re lying.”

  “I’m not.”

  She kissed him again, then slid from his arms and moved behind her desk.

  “Sit, please,” she said. “I know my telegram must have been confusing.”

  “A little,” he said. “I read between the lines.”

  “Did you say anything to Ed?” she asked. “I mean, about what my name used to be?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Good. I don’t want my past showing up here.”

  “Quite a place you have here, Ashley,” he said. “You must be doing very well to be able to open a place like this.”

  “I have investors, but yes, I am doing all right,” she said. “We’re having a grand opening in a few days.”

  “Haven’t you been open?”

  “Uh, yes,” she said, “but I want to do it up right, you know? Have a big party.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “You’ll be there, I hope.”

  “I guess that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On why you sent for me,” he said. “On whether or not I’ll still be here.”

  “I hope you’ll be here.”

  “Why don’t we get to the reason you sent for me?” he asked. “And then we can see.”

  “All right,” she said. “I would like you to deal faro for me.”

  “I haven’t dealt faro in a while, Ashley,” he said.

  “I think you probably still know how.”

  “I’m sure I do,” he said, “but that’s not usually a job I do.”

  “I understand that,” she said. “But I’m trying to make sure my place gets off to a good start, and I think having the Gunsmith here, dealing faro, will do that.”

  Clint frowned.

  “Okay,” she said, “yes, I’m trying to use your name, and yes, I’m trading on our friendship. At least, I hope we’re still friends after all these years.”

  “Of course we are,” he said.

  “But?”

  “I just don’t like the idea very much,” he said.

  “So you won’t do it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then you will?”

  “Didn’t say that either.”

  “Then what are you saying, Clint?”

  “I think we should probably talk about it a little more,” he said, “maybe tonight, over dinner.”

  “Still like steak?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “Then I’ll get you the best steak you’ve ever had,” she said, “and we can talk.”

  “That,” he said, “I can agree to.”

  FIVE

  Ashley admitted to Clint that she didn’t usually get up this early.

  “I’m not at my best,” she added.

  “You could have fooled me.”

  She took his arm and walked him out of her office and back into the saloon.

  “Where are you staying?” she asked.

  “Place called the Aksarben.”

  “Not the best hotel in town, but it’s all right,” she said. “You could stay here, you know.”

  “I don’t think so, Ashley,” he said. “At least, not yet.”

  “I understand.”

  When they reached the bar, Ed Wright grinned and said, “You two get reacquainted?”

  “Get your mind out of the street, Ed,” Ashley said.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean nothin’!” he said.

  “Clint, I’ll see you tonight for dinner. Pick me up here at six.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  She turned to Wright and said, “Anything Mr. Adams wants here is on the house. Got it?”

  “I got it, boss,” Wright said.

  Leo was still setting up chairs, and he tossed a resentful look at Clint.

  “And that includes the girl,” she added. She looked at Clint. “We’ve got some pretty ones here.”

  “I don’t think I’ll even notice them with you around,” he said.

  “You still know how to talk to a woman,” she said. “My girls are going to love you. I just want you to know they’re at your—”

  “Don’t worry about it, Ashley,” he said. “I’ll see you fo
r dinner.”

  “Six,” she reminded him, and then went back up the stairs to her room.

  Clint looked at Wright and asked, “Who’s the law in Omaha?”

  “Sheriff, or police?” the bartender asked. “We got ’em both.”

  Clint made a face. He didn’t want to have to deal with a police chief.

  “I’ll settle for the sheriff.”

  “Don’t blame ya,” Wright said. “His name’s Thorpe, been sheriff here for a couple of years.”

  “Thorpe,” Clint said. “Don’t know him. I guess I’ll go over and introduce myself.”

  “He’s an okay fella,” Wright said.

  “Known him for a while?”

  “I been in Omaha five years,” Wright said. “I know most folks.”

  “Thanks for your help, Ed,” Clint said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Sheriff’s office is outside to your right, two blocks. Can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks, Ed.”

  * * *

  Wright was correct—Clint couldn’t miss the sheriff’s office. There was a shingle in front of it that said IAN THORPE, SHERIFF sticking out on a post rather than hanging on the wall.

  He started to turn the knob and go in, thought better of it, and knocked.

  “Yeah, come in!” a voice called.

  He opened the door and entered. The office and the man inside had the same look of neglect. The desk was old, the potbellied stove older, and the man behind the desk had seen better days. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes red-rimmed, and Clint had an idea that what was in the white coffee mug was not coffee.

  “Knew it was a stranger,” the sheriff said.

  “How’d you know that?”

  “Nobody around here knocks first,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Are you Sheriff Thorpe?”

  The man brushed aside his vest to show the badge pinned to his shirt.

  “That’s me.”

  “My name’s Clint Adams, Sheriff,” Clint said. “I just arrived in town about an hour ago. Thought I’d stop in and let you know.”

  Thorpe sat back in his chair and stared at Clint.

  “Why stop in here?” he asked. “Omaha’s got a brand-new police station, complete with a brand-new police chief. So why me?”

  “I’m still a firm believer in the local sheriff,” Clint said. “As far as I’m concerned, police departments can stay in the East.”

  “You and me both, friend,” Thorpe said. “Would you like a drink?”

  “No thanks,” Clint said. “Too early for me.”

  “Used to be too early for me, too,” Thorpe said, “but those days are gone.”

  To illustrate his point, he took a bottle of whiskey from his bottom drawer and poured a few dollops into his coffee mug.

  “What brings the Gunsmith to town?”

  “Visiting a friend.”

  “Oh? Who’s that?”

  “Ashley, of Ashley’s Palace.”

  “Fine-lookin’ woman,” Thorpe said. “Got herself quite a place there.”

  “Yes, she has.”

  “Gonna help ’er with it?”

  “Don’t see that she needs much help,” Clint said. “We’re just catching up. It’s been a while.”

  “Well, I appreciate you comin’ in here to let me know you’re in town,” Thorpe said. “But you want some advice?”

  “Sure.”

  “Take you a walk over to the police department and let the chief know you’re here.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He’s the one folks around here answer to when there’s trouble,” Thorpe said. “He’s got a brand-new building, all fresh and clean.” Thorpe waved an arm. “You can see what I got. I’m not even sure I can find the key for the cells.”

  “Well, I’m not looking for trouble,” Clint said. “And if I run into any, I’ll just mention your name.”

  Thorpe laughed.

  “Fat lotta good that’ll do you, but be my guest. See how much good it does ya.”

  Thorpe went back into his cup and Clint left him there.

  SIX

  Clint left the sheriff’s office and walked along aimless for a while after that. He eventually came to the new police department building, saw what the sheriff had meant. It did look clean and new, a two-story brick building that seemed to be the model for new Eastern-style police departments that were popping up in the West.

  He considered going inside, but he’d recently had dealings with police chiefs and police departments that he wasn’t thrilled with, which explained why he still preferred the old position of town sheriff.

  He headed back to his hotel, and along the way he noticed the kid, Leo, from Ashley’s Palace going into a smaller saloon that looked like it belonged to the old Omaha. He had a feeling this would be the kind of place Sheriff Thorpe drank in.

  He walked past it, giving it just a glance. If he’d been in the mood for a beer, he would have gone inside, but instead he just kept on walking toward his hotel.

  * * *

  Leo stood at the bar, ordered a beer, and proceeded to complain about Clint Adams.

  Eventually, he had placed the name, but he wasn’t so impressed with the old-time gunfighters, like most people were. They were part of the past, and pretty soon they’d just disappear.

  The bartender poured the kid a drink and said, “The Gunsmith’s in town?”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Where’d you see him?”

  “Ain’t you been listenin’, Bull?” Leo asked. “I saw him over at the Palace.”

  “What’s he doin’ there?” Bull asked.

  “Looks like he’s friends with Miss Ashley,” Leo said sourly. “Don’t know what she sees in such an old guy.”

  “An old guy with a reputation,” Bull said. “And he ain’t so old.”

  “He’s gotta be over forty!” Leo complained.

  Bull, who was forty-five, said, “That ain’t so old, kid.”

  Leo was not convinced.

  * * *

  At a table in the back of the small saloon, two men sat, listening to the kid’s complaints.

  “You hear what that kid’s sayin’?” Casey Deal asked his friend.

  “I hear ’im,” John Rosa said. “What about it?”

  “The goddamn Gunsmith is in town,” Deal said. “You don’t think the boss’ll wanna know that?”

  Rosa shrugged and said, “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Well, we’re gonna be the ones to bring him the information,” Deal said. “Finish your drink.”

  “I just got it,” Rosa complained.

  “Well, finish it!” Deal said. “The boss is gonna wanna know this right away.”

  “Why?” Rosa whined.

  “Because the Gunsmith was in Ashley’s Palace,” Deal said. “Whatayou think that means?”

  “I dunno,” Rosa said. “Maybe he was thirsty.”

  “Yeah, and maybe he’s gonna work there.”

  “As what?”

  “Who cares?” Deal asked. “If word gets around that the Gunsmith works at the Palace, people are gonna flock to the place. Drink up.”

  Rosa downed his drink and both men stood, but as they started to leave the saloon, Deal made another decision.

  “Come on, kid,” he said, grabbing Leo by the back of his shirt, “you’re comin’ with us.”

  “Wha—”

  “Hey!” Bull yelled.

  “Don’t worry about it, Bull,” Deal said. “We won’t hurt your little buddy.”

  They dragged Leo outside and stopped in front of the saloon.

  “Whataya want?”

  “I wanna know what the Gunsmith is doin’ a
t the Palace,” Deal said. “Tell me.”

  “All I know is he’s friends with Miss Ashley,” Leo said.

  “And is he gonna work for her?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Come on,” Deal said, “there’s somethin’ else you know.”

  “Only that they’re gonna have supper together later.”

  “Where?”

  “I dunno, but he’s supposed to meet her at the Palace.”

  “When?”

  “Around six.”

  “Okay,” Deal said. He drew his gun and stuck it in Leo’s ribs.

  “You said you wasn’t gonna hurt me,” Leo said.

  “And I won’t,” Deal said, “but as soon as I hear you opened your mouth, I’ll find you and kill you. Understand?”

  “Y-Yeah, I understand.”

  “Just keep quiet about talkin’ to us,” Deal said, “and live. You wanna live, don’t ya?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Deal holstered his gun.

  “Go back inside and finish your drink.”

  Leo went back in.

  “Now what?” Rosa asked.

  “Now,” Deal said, “we go and talk to the boss.”

  “You think the kid’ll really keep quiet?”

  “He’s scared enough,” Deal said. “If not, he’s a dead man.”

  * * *

  Leo went back inside to the bar.

  “What happened?” Bull asked. “What did they want?”

  “Nothin’,” Leo said. “They didn’t want nothin’.” He picked up his drink with a shaky hand.

  SEVEN

  Clint went to his hotel and made use of the bath facilities. If he was going to have supper with a beautiful woman, he didn’t want to smell like a horse on the trail. After the bath he found a barber and had a shave and a haircut. With all of that done, he stopped and got himself some new clothes.

  Sartorially resplendent, he presented himself at Ashley’s Palace at five minutes to six.

  * * *

  “You smell real nice,” Ed Wright, the bartender, said to him.

  “Never mind,” Clint said. “Just let me have a beer.”

  He drank his beer while looking the place over. It was doing a brisk business.