Authors: Elizabeth McKenna
“Cera, please!” Jake reached for her again, but she was faster and slammed the door in his face. The click of the lock slamming into place echoed in the hallway. “Honest, we were only talking…” In frustration, he pounded the silent bedroom door with his fist.
He waited in the hallway, hoping she would respond or at least come out of the room. When she did neither, he went downstairs.
Chapter 5
As Jake’s boot hit the bottom step, pain exploded in his head like a cannonball hitting the enemy. Up until now, the hurt had waited at the edges of his consciousness, only occasionally pawing at him, but now it galloped forward at full speed. He reached out blindly for the nearest table, but his knees buckled first. A hand grabbed him from behind, saving his head from hitting the floor.
“Hold on, big fellow, I got you.” The piano player eased him into a chair. “Maybe you’d better lay off the whiskey for a while. Sober up a bit.”
“Oh, Isaac, he ain’t drunk.”
Ginger’s voice sounded muffled, as if cotton filled her cheeks. Jake snorted at the image and slumped forward onto the table.
“He must be sick. I was just talking to him upstairs and he was fine. I left him with Cera. What’s wrong, Jake?”
Soft hands lifted his face.
“He’s burning up. Mary Beth!” Ginger called out. “Get me some water and a cloth. I swear he was fine a few minutes ago.”
Jake sighed when the cool dampness hit his skin. He wanted to speak—to tell them he
was
fine, thank you very much—but the pain dulled his brain.
“Come on, honey, come back to us. That’s it. Open those pretty blue eyes. You can do it.”
When he did open them, he saw their faces peering down in alarm. Mortified, he rubbed a hand over his eyes, wishing them away. He opened his eyes again. Damn, they were still there.
Jake sighed again. “Sorry about that, Red. Normally, I get more warning. That one came on pretty quick and strong. I hope I didn’t scare you.”
“Scare me? Honey, I just about peed in my drawers. What’s wrong with you? Did Cera hit you? I knew she was mad, but I never thought…”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that. Well, actually she did hit me, but that’s not what’s wrong.”
From behind Ginger, Isaac made a harumphing noise. “Girls, go get this fellow a shot of whiskey and something to eat.”
“I’ll just stay here.” Ginger re-wet the cloth and pressed it to Jake’s face. “Mary Beth can get the food.”
Isaac shooed her away with his hands. “Go on. A man doesn’t like a woman fussing over him. Leave him be.”
“Actually, I don’t mind…,” Jake protested, but fell silent when Isaac threw him a harsh look.
The piano player’s eyes narrowed as he studied Jake. “So what’s wrong with you, soldier?”
Jake scowled. “Nothing, old man.” He was half way out of his chair, when the saloon tipped sideways. Isaac grabbed him again, pushing him back down.
“I think you’d better wait for that food and drink. In the meantime, you can tell me what you did to make Cera hit you.”
Jake opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He tried again. “You’re just the piano player, right? What business is it of yours?”
“I’m Cera’s friend and partner. With everything going on right now, she doesn’t need a drifter hanging about and causing trouble. I think it’s best if you move on.”
“Are you talking about that hatchet man from last night? If Sadie’s in danger I want to help.”
Isaac sneered. “Well, now, stranger, that’s our business—you understand? You eat and be on your way.” With a dismissing nod, Isaac walked back to his piano.
Ginger set a bowl of potato soup and a glass of whiskey in front of Jake.
“What’s going on here, Red? Why is someone trying to kill Sadie and that China girl?”
“Oh, Jake, I like you, you know I do, but maybe you should do what Isaac says.”
“If Sadie’s in danger, I’m not leaving.” He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Don’t be like that, Jake,” Ginger pleaded. “It’s not your problem.”
“I’m making it my problem.” He grabbed Ginger’s hand and pulled her down into the chair beside him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on—or not?”
Ginger shook her head unhappily.
“Fine, then I’ll sit here until someone does.”
*****
Cera’s pride forced her to be still until she heard Jake go downstairs, but then her heart took over and the tears came in slow choking sobs. The mirror above her dresser showed the damage, reflecting puffy red eyes.
She shouldn’t have given that soldier the time of day. Look where it got her, hiding in her bedroom when there was work to be done. She was a successful saloon owner in the roughest part of San Francisco, for God’s sake, not some lovesick ninny. With one last disgusted sigh, she left her room.
As she descended the stairs, she scanned the crowd. Jake sat in the corner again, hat pulled low and a full glass of whiskey before him. She knew he saw her, but she refused to acknowledge him.
She walked into the kitchen, startling Hu and Li, who were speaking their language in hushed tones while they cut vegetables. At the back sink, Sadie worked on a stack of dirty dishes. “If you all have a minute, I’ll find Isaac and we can talk before the supper rush.” As she turned to leave, the kitchen door opened and Isaac walked in with the girls trailing after him.
“Cera, I need to talk to you,” Ginger began. “Jake and I weren’t…”
Unwilling to re-live the humiliation she felt upstairs, Cera shook her head at Ginger. “Not now. There are more important things to discuss. Li, what happened today when you talked to the Chinese families that Hu told you about?”
Setting down his knife, Li replied, “They all say same story. Daughters go out in evening, not come back. No one see again. If anyone see girls get take away, they no say. They no want police.”
“Damn!” Cera hit the worktable with her fist. “So we still have no proof and no witnesses. How am I going to stop these kidnappings?”
“Maybe it isn’t up to you to stop,” Isaac suggested. “Let’s go to the authorities with what we know. Let them sort it out.”
“And which authorities would you suggest I go to? Officer Klein? From what I saw the other night, it looks like he’s in cahoots with Biggs. No, I need solid proof that can’t be ignored and I need to find someone who will do something about it.”
Isaac shook his head at her in frustration. “Biggs is a dangerous man, Cera. Is this worth risking our lives over?”
“Yes, Isaac, it is. When I think of those poor Chinese girls forced into slavery and the people Biggs murdered, I can’t sit idly by. Biggs and his men have ruined enough lives. Someone has to stop him!”
“Yes, but it doesn’t have to be you. You’re…”
“What? A woman? Too weak to stop him? I may not be stronger than Biggs, but I bet I’m smarter.”
“All right, all right.” Isaac nodded, giving in. “What do you want to do?”
Cera pursed her lips. “Let me think on it. For now, we have customers waiting.”
******
Throughout the evening, Cera worked hard at ignoring Jake, while he sat at the same table, with the same full glass of whiskey. Ginger jumped whenever she came near, making her feel almost sorry for the girl—but not sorry enough to forgive her just yet. Tonight, she’d pull the bedcovers over her head and pity herself for a while longer. Come tomorrow, she’d be fine, but for now, customers needed their drinks.
A few hours before closing, Cera came out of the kitchen with a tray of clean glasses. Across the room, Biggs and his personal guards, Quinn and Lewis, stood at one of the Faro tables. Stunned, she leaned against the bar until her heart slowed to its normal rhythm. Even then, the glasses clinked together as she fought her trembling hands while putting them away.
Taking a deep breath, she approached the gamblers. “Good evening gentlemen, to what do I owe this honor? Mr. Biggs, it’s been quite some time since you gambled in my humble saloon.”
“Oh, there you are, Miss Cassidy! Yes, yes, my men and I were out for the evening and thought a change of scenery might be good for our luck.” Smiling, Biggs took her hand and bent over it.
As soon as it was polite to, Cera pulled her hand from his grasp and discreetly rubbed it on the back of her skirt. “Well, you are welcome here, of course, but I think you’ll be quickly bored with the limited atmosphere.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Miss Cassidy, I’m happy to win your customers’ money as anyone else’s. Besides, the women here are pretty enough. What do you think, boys, after a couple of hands of Faro should we try our luck with the whores?” Spittle shot from Biggs’ mouth as he laughed.
Cera almost gagged on her own spit imagining these monsters touching any woman—whore or not. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten as it’s been so long since your last visit. The women in this saloon aren’t for hire. If you are looking for that kind of entertainment, you best go somewhere else. I run a reputable saloon.”
Biggs looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “Yes, yes, of course, my mistake. I guess we’ll have to control ourselves.” He laughed again, rubbing a hand across his protruding belly.
“I’ll let you get back to your game, then. You’re in good hands with Mary Beth. She’s our best dealer.” Cera forced a smile and walked stiffly to the bar.
For the next half hour, she watched the murderers drink and gamble in her saloon. Every now and then, her hand caressed the gun in her pocket. She imagined the satisfaction of sticking it in Biggs’ ribs and pulling the trigger. Justice would taste sweet.
She felt the energy in the room change before the words were shouted.
“God dammit girl, you must be cheating! I won’t stand for it, I tell you!” Biggs glared at Mary Beth from the opposite end of the Faro table, a cigar stuck between his teeth.
Cera hurried over. “Is there a problem, Mr. Biggs?”
“Yes, Miss Cassidy, there is a problem. We haven’t won one hand yet. Perhaps your dealer isn’t as honest as you think.”
Cera looked at Mary Beth who stood stock-still and unblinking in front of the dealing box. Turning back to Biggs, she replied, “The cards can be so unkind and fickle, I’m sure you are only having a string of bad luck.”
Biggs puffed out his chest, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. “I don’t think so. In fact, maybe I should ask the police to close down this place. We don’t need dishonest business owners stealing men’s hard-earned money.”
“The police wouldn’t be interested in doing that. Closing my saloon would be like stealing money out of their own pockets. As I suggested earlier, I think you will be happier gambling somewhere else. I’m going to ask you kindly to leave. The next time I ask, I won’t be this courteous.”
Biggs took a step toward Cera and leaned down, his face inches from hers. The foul-smelling cologne he bathed in assaulted her nose. “You think you can talk to me like this? You think you can throw me out of this dump? Is that what you think, Miss Cassidy? Do you know who I am?”
The saloon fell silent as the volume of Biggs’ voice rose. Isaac inched toward the Derringer he had hidden in the piano bench, but stopped when Cera shook her head slightly. Then her eyes widened in panic when Jake drew his Colt and walked toward them.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation here with the lady.”
Biggs whirled, reaching for his revolver, but Jake snagged it from the thug’s holster. “Who the hell do you…?”
Biggs stopped when he realized his gun was missing from his side. Jake held two guns, his own as well as Biggs’, and both barrels pointed at the big man’s chest. With hands half raised, he turned back to Cera who had her Derringer leveled at him as well.
Cera’s voice was deadly quiet. “As I said before, I appreciate your business, but it’s best if you leave now.”
Biggs lowered his hands. “That’s fine, Miss Cassidy. Have it your way, but it doesn’t end here.” He turned to Jake. “Do I get my gun back?”
Jake tilted his head. “Outside.”
With a sneer, Biggs motioned to his men and then headed for the door. Jake winked at Cera and followed the three men out into the street.
*****
Clear of the swinging doors, Biggs rounded on Jake. “I don’t know who you are, stranger, but that bitch is poking her nose where it don’t belong. She and her gang of ex-whores are going to end up cold as wagon tires. If you don’t want to join them, I suggest you stay clear.” Jabbing Jake’s chest with his finger, he tattooed each word of his warning.
Jake chewed his lip as if seriously considering the advice. “Well, I’m much obliged for your concern, sir, but I think I’ll stick around for awhile.” He spun the cylinder on Biggs’ gun, scattering the bullets across the sidewalk.
“Suit yourself.” Biggs grabbed the gun from Jake’s hand. “Quinn! Lewis! Get your asses moving! I need a drink.”
Before obeying the order, Quinn leaned forward and spit a gob of tobacco juice on Jake’s boot. He smiled, revealing a row of brown, rotted teeth. When Biggs yelled again, Quinn scurried after his boss.
“Nice. Real nice,” Jake muttered, rubbing the toe of his boot into the dusty street.