Wicked Wyoming Nights (23 page)

Later, she talked to Ira. He said much the same thing, but Croley intervened in her behalf. “Let the girl alone. I don’t like her being associated with Stedman anymore than you do, but it hasn’t done us any harm. And you have to admit his interest has heightened her appeal to the customers.” Eliza flushed.

“I won’t have her patting him on the back in public,” said Ira. “It’s bound to give people the wrong idea. You should have seen how the Burtons looked.”

“I wasn’t trying to praise him,” said Eliza. “I was just trying to give him credit for helping with the school, just like I did Ella and Mrs. Burton. Nobody complained when I mentioned their names.”

“That’s because everybody likes Ella, and they’re afraid Sanford Burton might call in their loans,” Ira snapped.

“But that’s not fair.”

“I don’t give a damn about fair or the Burtons or Ella Baylis or Stedman for that matter,” Croley said, interrupting. “As long as she keeps bringing in the customers, she can thank anybody she wants. The more people who hear about her, the more will want to see her. These cowboys worship women, especially the pure ones. They’ll come all the way from Sheridan just to have a look at her.

“Not that there’s going to be many to listen to you for a while,” Croley added, and a sour look settled over his features. “With everybody on roundup, it’s going to be mighty slim pickings.”

“Which reminds me,” said Ira, “you can go back to singing two times a night now school is out. It’s time you learned some new songs too. I’m sick of the old ones and I’m sure everybody else is.”

“You don’t need me to sing that often, not with Sam here practically every night.”

“Sam’s doing fine, but it’s not the same as a girl.”

“I been thinking,” said Croley, watching his partner out of the corner of his eye. “It’s about time we got ourselves a dancer.”

“Don’t be a fool. Why pay a second set of wages when we don’t need to?”

“I think we do.” Croley’s voice hardened. “Nobody is more appreciative of what Eliza has done than I am—”

“So why waste money hiring some ordinary dancer when they can see them at a dozen places within a hundred yards?”

“I wasn’t thinking of anyone ordinary. Your niece’s class has set us apart from everybody else, and I don’t mink we ought to change it. I even told Sam to go easy on the dirty songs.”

“So why are you looking for someone else?” Ira could see his importance at the saloon, and consequently his leverage in its management, shrinking. He had never accepted Sam’s success happily, even though he had gotten credit for finding him, and now there’d soon be someone else to cut into his influence.

“I was looking for someone who could get close to the customers,” Croley revealed. “Someone who could dance with them once in a while.”

“See what you’ve done?” Ira barked, turning on Eliza. “I tried to get you to dance, but no, you were too scared to let anybody touch you.”

“And she shouldn’t,” Croley agreed. “She should stay just as she is. Don’t you think it’s a good idea to get another performer, to broaden our appeal?” Croley asked Eliza.

Eliza didn’t know enough about what cowboys liked to be able to answer that question, but she saw it as a way to take the pressure off herself. “I really don’t understand much about saloons,” she confessed, “but it sounds like a good idea to me.”

“Great. And that will give you all the more time to work up your new songs. See if you can be ready by the time they get back from the roundup.”

Ira proceeded to argue further, but Eliza slipped away. They had recently moved into rooms over the new saloon, and that made it difficult to have any time to herself. Since she was no longer teaching, she had to spend long hours in her uncle’s company, and she was finding it increasingly difficult. He shared none of her interests and constantly complained of one thing or another, mostly Cord.

Eliza had begun to wonder if she was ever going to get Ira to accept Cord, but now that he was gone on roundup it was especially hard for her to keep quiet when Ira talked about him. She was feeling his absence acutely, and had to struggle not to let her dejection show.

She had never seen Cord every day. In fact, sometimes a whole week would pass without her even hearing a word about him, but she knew he was close by, that if she had any need of him he would be there. Now he was gone beyond her reach, and she felt unaccountably alone. Unaccountably because, since she had acquired several new friends, Susan Haughton being foremost among them, there was more to do. As she became more involved in the town and got to know its citizens better, she had less unoccupied time on her hands, but this increase in activity did not fill the void created by the departure of one tall, confident, perhaps even arrogant, cowboy.

Not since her aunt’s death had she been so aware of anyone’s absence. It was as though a part of her was missing. She knew if Cord didn’t return, she would never feel whole again. She had given him a part of her self, and he had absorbed it into his being.

Maybe this was the love Ella had tried to tell her about, the feeling that you were part of someone else and that you would always be incomplete without him. If it was, she wasn’t at all sure she liked it. Being with Cord was so wonderful she couldn’t find words to express her happiness, but being without him was equally awful. If love could lift you to the pinnacle of happiness, men it was equally capable of plunging you into the depths of despair.

“They busted in on Lem and Bucky without any warning and started shooting.”

“Are they dead?”

“Naw. They ain’t even hit.”

“How come? The gun musta been near bout on the end of Lem’s nose.”

“Them fellas were too cocksure. They had to shoot off their mouths about what they were going to do. Lem yawned and had himself a big stretch, just as cool as you please, and reached out for his six-shooter hanging from the bedpost. They forgot he’s left-handed.”

“What happened men?”

“They got off the first shots, one bullet coming so close to Lem’s cheek it gave him powder burns, but the other buried in the mattress next to him.”

“Don’t tell me Lem sat there just looking at his gun.”

“Naw. They turned and ran, but he thinks he got one of them in the stomach.”

The saloon was usually empty after lunch, no cowboy being around to invade the cool quiet of its interior, and Croley and Ira had taken advantage of this slowdown to move out of their small, stuffy office at the back of the building. Their conference had been interrupted by the two men who’d burst into the saloon to tell them of the attack on Lem Poteet and Bucky Lloyd. Since they had stopped to spread the news to every person they met on their way into town, the saloon soon began to fill up with people angry over the open, unprovoked attack on men they considered their friends. Croley opened the bar, and it wasn’t long before they passed from discussing the facts to surmises as to who had lead the attack and why.

“Everybody’s sure it was the Association’s hired guns. They’ve been after Lem for more than a year now.”

“Why do you to have to go all the way to Cheyenne for who’s responsible when we’ve got members of the Association right here in Johnson County?” Ira declared heatedly. “Not to mention one who’s made a habit of taking the law into his own hands.”

“What makes you think it was Stedman’s men?”

“It was Stedman himself. You won’t find him letting his men do anything without him.”

“You don’t find him failing once he sets his mind on something either” pointed out another. “Sounds like those men made a fair mess of it.”

“Lem is a first-rate shot. He probably rattled them.”

“Neither you nor anybody else has ever seen Cord Stedman rattled. And if you think Lem is the best hand with a gun in these parts, you haven’t seen Stedman.”

They broke off. Eliza and Perkin Messmore, the piano player, had entered the main room. For the last few weeks they had been practicing her new songs when the saloon was empty, and Eliza was brought up short by the presence of a large knot of men.

“Come on in,” Croley called to her. “We won’t brother you.”

“I can wait until later,” she said, and turned to leave.

“It’s not likely anybody will be paying attention to you,” Ira said. “We’ve got
important
matters to discuss.”

Eliza was doubtful, but decided it would be better to go ahead. They were at the opposite end of the long room, and maybe if she sang a song or two, they wouldn’t notice when she stopped.

The men waited for Eliza to begin. She sang as softly as she could, and before she had finished the first song they had started to whisper. Eliza turned her back, and by the end of the second song they were so involved with their discussion they didn’t notice when she stopped. But Ira did, and Eliza chose a third song.

Before long neither group was aware of the other. Singing always enabled Eliza to get away from her trouble, and she finished the song and mechanically turned the page to the next one.

“… can’t make me believe that Cord Stedman didn’t have something to do with it. Not when Lem’s shack is no more than twenty miles from his place.”

Eliza’s attention was riveted by the mention of Cord’s name, and she forgot all about the next song, even when Perkin began the musical introduction.

“What can we do about it?”

“We can tell the sheriff.”

“We don’t have any proof.”

“We could go after him ourselves,” Ira suggested.

“With every cowboy on the Matador ready to back him up?”

“I don’t like it when something like this happens, but I ain’t taking the law into my own hands. We’d be lucky to get out of there with a whole skin, and I got a family to think of.”

“You might not live long enough to take care of them if Cord Stedman is allowed to go around shooting anybody he wants.”

“Stedman ain’t never done anything to me, and I for one ain’t so danged sure he did this either, but it don’t matter. I’ll say my piece any time you like, but I ain’t picking up no gun and going looking for trouble.”

“You’re a coward, Pete Bosley.”

“Maybe, but I ain’t a dead coward. Are you going to take care of my kids if I bite it?”

“Nobody’s talking about shooting anybody,” interjected Croley smoothly. That’s what we’re objecting to.”

“There’ll be plenty of shooting if you go out to the Matador accusing Cord Stedman of attacking Lem, you mark my words.”

“Mr. Stedman had nothing to do with that attack.” Eliza’s soft voice reduced the rather loud, argumentative group to a stupefied silence.

Chapter 17

“Go back to your singing, girl,” Ira shouted angrily. “You don’t know anything about this.”

“Not until you stop accusing Mr. Stedman of something he didn’t do.”

“Cord Stedman is a cold-blooded, calculating bastard who doesn’t give a damn for anything but his own success.”

“He’s done more than anybody here to see the children of this town get an education.”

“It’s a fact he came by my place and talked my wife into sending the young’uns,” stated one dubious farmer. “He got to talking about the future of Wyoming depending on the education of our children, and she got so excited them kids would have been in school if I’d had to carry them myself.”

“And he gave the Haughtons a beef to help them through the winter. I know because I helped cut it up,” volunteered another.

“It’s all a trick to keep you from knowing him for the coldblooded killer he is,” fumed Ira.

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t you argue with me, girl,” Ira shouted, startling the men who had been brought up to revere women, especially one as pretty and gentle as Eliza.

“I’m not arguing. I’m just stating a fact. Mr. Stedman couldn’t have done it because he’s not back yet.”

“That just shows how much you know. The roundup was over last week. The men are taking the cattle to the railhead at Sheridan right now. Stedman’s been home for five days.”

“He is taking his steers to Chicago and won’t be back for at least two more weeks.”

“Come to think of it, I do think I heard some of the boys say Stedman was thinking about selling his own herd.”

“How do you know this?” Ira’s glare condemned his niece.

“He told Mrs. Baylis when he was in buying supplies for the trip,” she said, not wanting everyone to know Cord had sought her out in the schoolhouse. “He said he wanted the top price so he could pay off the last of his debt.”

“That’s right,” Pete Bosley corroborated. “Mr. Burton was telling my boss Cord Stedman was going to be the richest man in the county in a couple of years.”

“Then he couldn’t have done it?” Ira asked, deflated.

“You should never accuse people without evidence,” Eliza said, angry over the men’s irresponsible charges. “You have let there prejudice lead you to a false conclusion. In a more careless condition”—she eyed the pitchers of beer—“you might have decided on some course of action which could not only have resulted in injury to innocent people, but might have stirred up bad feelings and possibly had dire results.”

The men looked abashed.