Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (21 page)

Derrick drew Rudy close to him. “This is bad. Percy promised we could arrest Castillo tonight. But the more time that goes by without grabbing him, the more chance he’ll get away with this.”

Rudy loathed not having an answer to give his best friend.

“Senator Spiro,” said the brutal Captain Park. “This guy here says he saw Castillo race out the door ten minutes ago.”

Rudy and Derrick nearly tore Captain Park aside in their effort to see this witness. Rudy doubted the witness already—the performance had only
ended
ten minutes ago! How could Castillo have gone directly from the stage to the exit without his new victim? Rudy’s spirits were soon lifted, however.

“It’s Percy!” cried Alameda, hugging the shorter man to her bosom. Percy was so short that his face was conveniently snuggled against Alameda’s ample tits, and from the wide grin glued to his face, Percy was fine with that.

Neil Tempest, however, was trying to tear Percy from his sister-in-law’s bosom. It was amusing to see Tempest’s fingers go right through the spirit’s arm, but Tempest didn’t seem to savvy that Percy was from the misty realm. “Who are you? And how did you get this vital information all of a sudden?”

Alameda kept her grip on the ghost. Today Percy was even dressed as a bear wrestler, a grizzly’s fur wrapped around his torso, perhaps to fit in with the burlesque crowd. He defiantly nuzzled his nose into Alameda’s cleavage. “He is a friend, and I trust everything he says!”

“He’s been right so far,” Rudy told Neil. “In general. Percy, what advice do you have?”

Percy removed his face from the breasts long enough to cry out, “Go to the train, boys! He will be hiding Temperance in the dining car, but look for the fat woman to be hiding Castillo.”

“Amazing Johnson’s wife, Katrina?” Rudy inquired. He knew Amazing Johnson was the Fat Man, and Johnson’s wife was pretty goddamn hefty. She was probably wider than she was tall.

“I suppose. Go, man, go! I will stay here, keeping Alameda safe.”

Neil Tempest stayed, too, to question The Phenomenal Percy some more and to calm the crowd that would be irate once they realized Temperance had been kidnapped now, too.

It was refreshing to be out of the smoky theater that reeked of sweat and the thick smell of pandemonium. Rudy allowed the clear icy night air to revive and stimulate his senses, and they jogged toward the train for two blocks without speaking. The streets were well-nigh deserted, everyone either being at the Oddfellows Hall, the Bucket of Blood, or the circus.

“You know,” Derrick pointed out as they jogged through the slush, “Temperance is a circus gal, unlike Kittie. Laramie residents won’t care much about her disappearance, but it’ll be harder for Castillo to hide her imprisonment from the troupe.”

Rudy puffed clouds of icy air as he jogged. The implications were obvious. Castillo would have that much more incentive to murder Temperance immediately. He couldn’t continue to hide her as his prisoner once the train and troupe got underway.

Turning the corner onto First Street, they were practically face-to-face with José the Mexican Juggler and Major Littlefinger, the midget. José and the Major were exiting the Bucket of Blood, and their eyes fixed on Rudy and Derrick with instant suspicion.

In the flash of an eye, Rudy grabbed Derrick by the collar of his greatcoat and flung him against the front window of Freund and Brothers’ store. Thankfully, by now Derrick knew to trust him, and when Rudy commanded, “Kiss me,” he did.

Derrick trusted Rudy.

While it was likely that the perpetually randy Rudy had developed a sudden desire to neck, Derrick had seen José and Major Littlefinger coming out of the saloon. Derrick had tossed José into a puppet stage when they were assisting Montreal Jed to escape the crowd several days ago after Kittie had vanished in his spirit cabinet. And Major Littlefinger just plain didn’t like them. It wouldn’t behoove them to take several valuable minutes to tangle with the showmen when they had a much more important goal.

So he allowed Rudy to press him against the storefront and hump him into the glass.

Rudy held Derrick’s jaw in his hand and sighed an openmouthed kiss into Derrick’s mouth. He had the ability to pretend down pat, as his cock immediately rose urgently against Derrick’s. “God, you’re delicious,” Rudy sighed.

“I’d like to fuck you right now,” Derrick murmured against his friend’s mouth.

He heard José and Littlefinger chuckling. “Hey,” said Littlefinger to his juggling buddy. “Look at the two nancy boys.”

“They take a risk, doing it in the street,” said José, who wasn’t really from Mexico. “Hey, you poofs! There is a hotel right there!”

Derrick gripped the globes of Rudy’s ass in his hands as they massaged their erections together. “I’d like to screw you right up against this window, right now.”

“You just wish you could join in,” said the midget, moving down the street. “You like watching them.”

José protested, “Do not!”

“Do, too. I saw you staring at the strong man’s ass the other day.”

“Did not! I was just wondering if he was really lifting that two-hundred-pound anvil.”

The voices dimmed, and Rudy and Derrick uncoupled. Rudy flashed Derrick a mischievous smile, and they were off again, leaping up onto the train platform.

“The dining car,” Derrick needlessly reminded Rudy. “We need to find Temperance first, or we’ve got no crime.”

They loped down the platform, passing several cars where older or more comatose members of the troupe had set up residence in the past week. They swiftly found the dining car, which had not been in service since the train had been snowed in, and Derrick cross-drew his six-shooter from his hip holster before vaulting himself up into the car.

“Ho!”
Behind him, Rudy had spotted something and was already sprinting back down the train platform.

Derrick saw that toward the rear of the car, Temperance lay on her back on a buffet table, still dressed as the innocent heroine Amina, lit by several candles.

Derrick pivoted about for a few seconds. Stay and protect Temperance, who looked cold as a wagon tire with her hands folded over her breasts, or follow Rudy and possibly help catch the cold-blooded knife thrower? The boozy odor of ether crept into Derrick’s nostrils, so he hoped Temperance was only knocked out.

Derrick dashed down the stairs after Rudy. Castillo could have many knives on his person, so Rudy would need his help. And Rudy had obviously just caught a glimpse of Castillo.

“Remember the fat lady,” Derrick said as he caught up with Rudy.

“Amazing Johnson’s wife,” Rudy panted. “I saw Castillo go that way.”

They jumped between two railcars and scurried, crouched over. Here in this field the show business people had built their temporary tent city, and shafts of light emanated from between the structures. Like pioneers circling their wagons, the showmen had placed their tent entrances away from the rail line. Derrick and Rudy snuck between two tents to get a view of the main town square.

All of the opera singers and the large majority of the performers were at the Oddfellows Hall, so it was fairly simple to find the fat lady. She squatted, presumably over a stool of some sort, eating peanuts before a bonfire. She must have been sitting there for a long time, as there was a pile of peanut shells next to her a foot tall.

“I know he came this way,” whispered Rudy, whipping his head this way and that.

“Well.” Derrick spoke in a normal voice, squaring his shoulders. He didn’t care who saw him. “I for one have lost patience with this loco foot-loving pervert. Our damned reputations are on the line thanks to him.” Ensuring that his revolver was cocked, Derrick strode right out into the open. “Percy says ask the fat lady, I’m going to ask the fat lady.”

Only, he’d ask her with a gun barrel to back him up.

A fellow who was probably Joe the Rubber-Skinned Man and a few urchins shared the bonfire with Mrs. Johnson, but Derrick didn’t care. He marched right up to the fat lady and pointed the revolver at her placid face.

“Eliazar Castillo,” Derrick stated. “Where is he?”

This didn’t seem to have much of an impact on her, but the Rubber-Skinned Man sure cut out of there fast. He tripped so many times in his haste, he left a chain of full-body imprints in the snow. Most of the children stayed and looked on with wide-eyed wonder, as though this happened every day of the year. In the circus, it was probably difficult to tell the difference between reality and an act.

Mrs. Johnson shrugged.
“
Ich
weiß nicht!” I don’t know
.
She’d understood the question but preferred to pop another peanut into her mouth.

Derrick turned to the children. “How about you kids? Any of you seen Eliazar Castillo? He’s wanted for murder, you know.”

Derrick liked children, in general. He knew that mentioning Castillo was a murderer would interest them, and it did. They grabbed each other’s arms and chattered in German, and Rudy came up behind Derrick and put calming hands on his shoulders.

Rudy said, “What my buddy here means to say is, Castillo the knife thrower is needed for an act we’re about to perform. You see, we—”

“No!” Derrick protested. “What I
mean to say
is, kids, Castillo is wanted by the marshal of Laramie for murder. He just murdered that pretty blonde-haired girl Kittie. Did you see him with her? Well, see, Castillo is a perverted, potato-headed shit sack who likes to paint girls’ toenails red.”

The children giggled, and one of them pointed at the fat lady. “Castillo hides there!”

Mrs. Johnson shot out her evil harridan’s boot and kicked the poor child in the leg.

“Ow!” he cried and in turn shoved another child into the fat lady. That’s when Derrick saw a flash of Castillo’s sleeve from his smelly hiding place underneath Mrs. Johnson’s skirts.

Rudy must have thought Derrick had truly lost a screw when he grabbed a handful of Mrs. Johnson’s oily skirts and whisked them aside. Squealing, laughing children scattered like a passel of blackbirds, and Derrick had no compunction whatsoever about toppling the fat woman over onto the snow.

Castillo’s jig was up, although he made a valiant effort at diving under Mrs. Johnson’s skirts again. It was just typical of Castillo’s sniveling, spineless character that when she kicked him, he grabbed a kid by the legs. It was the adorable nipper who had told Derrick where he was hiding. Using this kid like a shield, Castillo made a break for the train. The boy thrashed and kicked, but Castillo was a knife thrower, after all, and he must have kept a firm grip on the squalling monkey.

And Derrick had never actually shot anyone. Once, a squatter had been mining on his claim near South Pass, so Derrick had pulled a revolver on him. But the squatter had moved on, so Derrick had not needed to shoot him.

Now, as he trudged across the snowy field after Castillo, he wondered if Rudy had ever shot at anyone other than a fake Indian. Rudy had told him he
wished
he could shoot a few Sioux—not that he ever had. It would be helpful right now if Tempest would come along and shoot Castillo. Or that Captain Park buffalo. He was a regular rugged gladiator of a man.

“The jig is up!” Derrick said as they dodged between the same two railcars. “Why does he insist on running? Now he’s stealing a
kid
. That’s going to look even worse to the populace of Laramie.”

Rudy huffed, “He runs because he’s crazier than a bedbug, Derrick. That happens to a lot of these people living the life. It’s one thing I vow will never happen to me, because I got out of the life! Listen, I’m just going to shoot this loon in the arm or something.”

To prove his point, Rudy squeezed his revolver’s trigger before Derrick could stop him. The bullet pinged off the metal of the dining car’s door frame. Castillo roared as though he were a lion and yanked the child into the dining car.

“Don’t do that again,” said Derrick. “He’s got the upper hand, Rudy. He could slice that kid.”

Rudy blew the hair from his eyes in irritation. “Well, what’s our strategy then? Bore him to death with threats?”

Derrick said, “Temperance is in there, Rudy. She could still be alive. It smells like he drugged her with ether, so it’s hard to tell.”

Rudy sighed. “All right. But the first chance I get the kid’s not near him, I’m plugging this bastard.”

“Fair enough.”

The two partners tiptoed up the steps into the dining car and peeked down the aisle. Apparently, Castillo had already forgotten about the boy, who sat on a seat slack-jawed—or perhaps he’d forgotten about Derrick and Rudy altogether.

Castillo now sat at Temperance’s bare feet that dangled over the edge of the buffet table, a tiny bottle of vermilion red between his fingers. He eagerly sucked on a lollipop or some other candy on a stick. He seemed to be lavishing the candy with the sort of attention he wished he could give to Temperance’s toes, but her nails must have been wet, and he probably didn’t want to ruin the painted effect. So he shoved the candy’s stick in and out of his mouth, spiderwebs of drool hanging from his chin, his eyes glassed over in his twisted rapture.

Apparently just the mere sight of Temperance’s little white feet was enough to send him over the edge. He plunged the candy in and out of his mouth as though it were the world’s smallest johnson he’d been longing to suck for years.