Wolf Creek (2 page)

For her last
selection, she sang
“
A Rambler and a Gambler
”
in a nod to the tournament at
hand.

I’m a rambler
and a gambler and a long ways from home
If the people don’t like me,
they can leave me alone

Oh, it’s dark
and it
’
s a-rainin
’
and the moon gives no light
My pony won’t travel on this
dark road at night

Again, images of
her father filled Maudie
’
s mind
…
the lines on his hard but handsome,
bearded face, the immaculate three-piece suit and rakish string
tie. If ever there was a rambling gambler, he was one. But he had a
good heart. She had known a few who did not; the memory of one in
particular still brought a shiver.

I used to have
me a pretty little sweetheart, her age was
nineteen
She was the flower of Belton and the rose of
Saline

But her parents
were against me and now she is the same
If I’m on your book, love,
won
’
t you blot out my name

I’m a rambler
and a gambler and a long ways from home
If the people don’t like me,
they can leave me alone

Oh, it’s dark
and it
’
s a-rainin
’
and the moon gives no light
My pony won’t travel on this
dark road at night

She sat on the
stool after the last note, unaware for a few moments of the
whistles and cheers from the appreciative crowd. Coming back to
herself, she waved her hanky and flashed a dimpled smile. At the
bar, Bob was ready with a tall glass of cool tea,
Maudie
’
s
favorite. She lingered to visit with Deputy Marshals Quint Croy and
Seamus O
’
Connor,
who were making their rounds of the saloons. A lot of money would
be traveling from one pocket to another over the next few days.
That always meant an increase in alley robberies and an occasional
killing.

“
I
’
d be happy to escort you home after
the evening show, Miss LeJeune,
”
said Quint.
“
There are more rowdies than usual
roaming the streets.
”

“
Thank you kindly, Deputy.
I
’
m sure
I
’
ll be
fine.
”
Maudie
checked the pocket watch in her bag. The Isabellas always prepared
a small dinner for her between the matinee and evening
shows.
Yes, for now, it
’
s an easy living.

* * *

Maudie LeJeune had arrived in Wolf
Creek a few months earlier, just as a frigid February gave way to a
mild but blustery March. She settled into a pleasant rented cottage
near the creek. It was no mighty Mississippi, but the gurgling
water calmed her and was the only thing about Kansas that reminded
her of home.

By the end of
the first week, Maudie had a regular job singing at the Eldorado.
When she first met Virgil Calhoun, there was no denying that he was
plenty impressed by her looks. Like so many before him, he probably
doubted the scope of her talent, so she challenged him to let her
sing one song for the early evening crowd. After a single verse and
chorus, he saw the effect of her performance on his customers and
made her an offer on the spot to become the
saloon
’
s
headliner.

Maudie had
another job that she chose to keep secret. She had inherited her
mother
’
s knack
with a sewing needle and turned a corner of her bedroom into a
small work area where she made ladies
’
embroidered silk handbags. A
couple of her exquisite creations were on display at Josephine
Miller
’
s dress
shop. The dressmaker was delighted to tell her customers the bags
were designed by an artisan from New Orleans, implying that she had
them shipped all the way to Wolf Creek. In reality, Maudie dropped
them off at a rear door during off-hours visits to the
shop.

Growing up in
the Vieux Carr
é
,
Maudie had been careful when mentioning her sewing skills. Many
women who worked as prostitutes listed their occupations as
“
seamstress
”
on official census records. It was not an implication she
wished to make then, or now. She had always created beautiful
handbags for the love of it, not as a guise. Besides, she was
pocketing all the income she could, while she could. Circumstances
had a way of changing. And needlework wasn
’
t Maudie LeJeune
’
s only secret.

* * *

Aside from the
Eldorado Saloon, Isabella
’
s Restaurant was the only bastion
of relative social refinement to be found in the boisterous town of
Wolf Creek. Antonio and his wife Maria were fine cooks but were not
limited to Italian fare. With the help of a built-in labor force of
seven children, plus a son-in-law, they served up hearty lunches
and dinners six days a week. They lived, did laundry, raised a few
chickens, and maintained a bountiful vegetable garden on the
restaurant property.

“
Franco! Vittore! Bring Signorina LeJeune a
glass of tea and the special.
”
Antonio
’
s eldest sons scurried to the
kitchen. They much preferred to be called
“
Frank
”
and
“
Victor
”
but knew their father had some old
ways that would never change, no matter how long he lived in
America.

Maudie took her
usual seat at a table tucked into the dining
room
’
s rear
corner. She sought quiet after her performances and Antonio, in his
good-natured way, fended off intrusions from other guests. She had
just over an hour to rest before the evening
show.

Maudie was sampling a bite of the chicken and
dumplings special when Antonio seated himself opposite her. He
spread his hands on the table and studied her, worry on his
brow.

“
What is the matter,
Antonio?
”

“
Someone came here asking for
you,
”
he
said,
“
only an
hour ago. A man.
”

Maudie put down
her fork. She tried not to appear concerned.
“
Did he tell you his name? What did
he look like?
”

“
He was well-dressed. Dark hair with a small
beard. I thought he must be here for the tournament. I have never
seen him before.
”

“
But what did he say?
”
Maudie
’
s voice took on an
edge.

“
He asked if I knew of you and where you
might be staying. I told him I saw you occasionally. I could give
you a message perhaps. He said not to worry. He would find you
himself.
”

Antonio did not look pleased. Clearly, the
stranger had not made a favorable impression on him.

“
That is all?
”
Maudie wasn
’
t sure he had divulged the full
story.
“
Nothing
else?
”

Franco
approached the table to fill Maudie
’
s glass with more tea, only to be
waved away by his father.

Antonio
continued.
“
I
asked his name, not in a prying way, but as if to introduce myself.
He said his name was Childress.
”

Maudie paled and pushed back her still-full
plate.

“
That is all,
”
said Antonio.
“
He walked to the corner, then down
Fifth in the direction of the Wolf
’
s Den. Maudie, you
will
…
you will let
me know if you need our help.
”

Maudie nodded
slightly but did not speak. Antonio arose, smoothed his starched
apron, and bowed slightly before leaving her alone. When the
kitchen door thumped close behind him, A stately grandfather clock
chimed near the door, breaking into Maudie
’
s thoughts.
A quarter of eight
! She scooped up
her possessions and hurried outside. Her little boot heels clopped
sharply on the boardwalks all the way to the
Eldorado.

* * *

The evening show
was Maudie
’
s
favorite. Golden lantern light flooded the room, creating a warm,
festive mood. The men laughed louder and drank a great deal more
than in the afternoons.

She kept the
tempos upbeat throughout the night, only slowing to sing a husky
version of
“
Shenandoah.
”
She signed off with a boisterous cowboy song that had most of
the men singing along.

Come all you
jolly cowmen, don’t you want to go
Way up on the Kansas
line?
Where
you whoop up the cattle from morning till night
All out in the midnight
rain.

The cowboy’s
life is a dreadful life,
He’s driven through heat and
cold;
I’m
almost froze with the water on my clothes,
A-ridin’ through heat and
cold.

I’ve been where
the lightnin’, the lightnin’ tangled in my eyes,
The cattle I could scarcely
hold;
Think
I heard my boss man say:
I want all brave-hearted men
who ain’t afraid to die
To whoop up the cattle from
morning till night,
Way up on the Kansas
line.

Jules Traynor,
the town
’
s
colorful defense attorney, jumped to his feet with a robust
“
Brava!
”
He
was on his third round of Old Overholt rye. He
’
d spent most of the day advising
hung-over cowpunchers who had staggered onto the wrong side of the
law the night before.

Jules zigzagged
between the tables toward the piano. He laid hold of
Sven
’
s bowler hat
and proceeded to pass it around the room.

“
Here, here, fellows. Show the lady some
appreciation. And my friend Sven too. Come on, gents.
You
’
ll likely
lose those coins tonight anyway.
”

The bowler returned to Sven heavier by more
than thirty dollars. Before sauntering back to his seat, Jules paid
respects to Maudie with a gallant kiss to her hand and an
invitation to join him at his table.

Maudie sat down with the lawyer, intending to
stay for only a few minutes before walking home. Jules ordered
another short glass of rye but Maudie kept to her usual
tea.

“
A wonderful performance, as always, Miss
LeJeune,
”
said
Jules.
“
Say, I
never told you I once spent time in New Orleans. I was just a young
Arkansas farm boy. Hadn
’
t seen so many fancy buildings in
all my life. And that was just the beginning of things
I
’
d never
seen.
”

A long scrape of
chair legs interrupted Maudie
’
s response. Someone had pulled up a
seat next to her.

“
Forgive my intrusion. I only wanted to
compliment your lovely performance,
Miss
LeJeune
.
”
Maudie stiffened at the sound of the voice and
turned her head slowly toward the sharply dressed man in the next
chair. Her face blanched in obvious distress.

Confusion
flitted over Jules Traynor
’
s brow but he quickly recovered his
composure, an ability acquired over years in the courtroom. He
extended a hand to the stranger.

“
No intrusion. I am Jules
Traynor.
”

“
Lyle Childress. Pleased to meet you. I have
long been an admirer of Miss LeJeune
’
s. We first met in New Orleans. How
long ago was that, Maudie? Five, maybe six
years?
”